


Healing

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [37]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/F, Gen, Past Rape Mention, Transphobia mention, grooming mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25606075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: Heather Chandler finally figures out what she needs to do.
Relationships: Heather Chandler & Betty Finn, Heather Chandler & Jason "J. D." Dean, Heather Chandler & Martha Dunnstock, Heather Chandler/Heather Duke, Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer, Heather Duke/Heather McNamara, Heather McNamara/Veronica Sawyer
Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1053590
Comments: 24
Kudos: 178





	1. Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> as always, content warnings are in the tags. nothing heavy really happens, just a lot of heavy discussions.

Heather woke up cradling her blanket close, one leg on top of it. She couldn’t remember her dreams, she just knew she’d been asleep for a while with how well rested she felt, something she hadn’t felt in a while.

She blinked open an eye and saw sunlight spilling into her room, brightening the place up and lifting her mood. Yawning, she managed to pick herself off of her plush pillow, only to immediately want to flop right back onto it. Still, she allowed herself to wake up, and it was then she realised that the space next to her was empty, where it hadn’t previously been. She panicked for a moment, thinking that everything that had happened the previous evening was all just a dream, that is before she flopped over to look at her nightstand. There, she saw a glass of water with several sticky notes on it. Wiping her eyes so they’d stop being blurry, she read over the first note a few times until she managed to piece together what it said.

_Why are you such a fucking violent sleeper??? Jesus fucking Christ._

_Anyway, sorry that you’ll likely wake up with me not being there, had to get up for school. I stole one of your shirts, hope you don’t mind. (No, it doesn’t fit, laugh it up later)._

Chuckling, she picked up the second one.

_Make sure you take care of yourself today, by the way. If I didn’t care about graduating from this shithole I would have stayed with you, but also you don’t need to be babied by me. Just make sure if you feel yourself spiralling or dissociating or whatever other PTSD symptoms there are, I don’t remember, I have my own to track quite frankly, find something to distract yourself._

She read the third one.

_Leave the house if you need to - walking Bear has been helping me not binge as often lately. Also stay away from sharp objects if anything does happen, please. I hid a lot of things already but I can’t exactly take your kitchen knives away._

She read the last one.

_I should be coming back there after school, so be ready to let me in._

_Take care of yourself._

_-Heather xoxo_

Smiling at the notes, she piled them onto her nightstand, which, admittedly, was becoming a horrible mess. It was packed with cigarette butts, tissues and mugs, and there was little room left. She hadn’t even noticed how compact it was until now, it had simply become a part of her surroundings. As she sipped the water Duke had left for her, the urge to shove it all into the trash overcame her, and just like that, she’d already planned out her morning. It had been a while since she’d done such a thing, usually only powered by boredom or bursts of energy, so it was a good start.

It had also been a while since she got up at - nine in the morning? Impressive. Maybe it was because she was hungry and she was craving something sweet. She knew cooking would be rendered a little difficult with her injured hand though, but she was still as stubborn as ever, so she marched downstairs and grabbed a mixing bowl, some ingredients and a waffle iron, as well as preparing some syrup. There were also some strawberries that needed using up, so they could be a good garnish.

She envied Veronica’s ability to use two hands as she mixed the waffle ingredients together, but she powered through it, getting a mostly smooth consistency. Whatever, she wasn’t a chef, she just wanted breakfast, so onto the waffle iron it went, some of it spilling out the sides. It smelled fucking good though.

 _Wait,_ she thought, staring at her right hand. _Oh no, now I have to_ masturbate _with my left hand too? This is bullshit. I have not fucked in like two weeks, I am going to go insane._

Then she remembered that she was no longer single, and even though she knew Duke likely wouldn’t want to try anything like that straight away - she’d always found sex to be a little daunting - just the idea that she was actually _dating_ her was enough for her to drum her hands happily against the table, though not so hard that her injury would hurt. She didn’t even realise she was smiling until she turned her attention back to her waffles, seeing they were done. She placed them on a plate in a neat fashion, before maybe going a bit overboard with the syrup and finally placing some strawberries on top. For some time, she found herself just staring at what was a very appealing looking breakfast, despite the fact that she was hungry and she just wanted to wolf it down. It was such a small, insignificant thing that would be devoured in less than half an hour, but it still made her happy.

Eating it made her a lot happier.

“I’d give you both some, but I don’t think that’s very good for you,” she said, looking into her cockroaches’ enclosure. Both of them were hiding away, as they did when the sun was bright, though she could see their heads poking out of their hiding places. Rather than eating on her bed, she decided to pull a seat up in front of the tank and just stare at them. They weren’t doing anything, but she was entertained.

At one point, she ran her hand through her hair and was surprised when there was no hair left to feel past her shoulders, even though she knew full well what had happened. It just didn’t feel right, and it was almost enough to ruin her good mood, but rather than letting that swallow her up, she instead took advantage of her still lingering urge to clean up and grabbed as many of her dishes she could hold and took them all downstairs. Though she knew without paint there was no saving the burn marks she had left on the wood with the cigarettes, she could still make it look presentable again. Grabbing some cloths and cleaners and trash bags, she carried them all back up to her room, and it was only when she actually looked around and took in her surroundings did she realise how messy her room had become. She had no idea how she didn’t see any of it sooner, but no matter, she wouldn’t have cleaned it up anyway.

Taking a moment to organise her thoughts, she was able to decipher a good plan to clean up. She’d start with whatever items were on the floor, and work her way up from there. Whilst crawling on the floor to grab things that had rolled under the bed and the couch and her dressers, she also realised her carpet _really_ needed vacuuming, which was fine, because she actually liked vacuuming. Picking things up was becoming tedious though, so she did the first thing she could think of and pulled out her stereo. She turned on an ABBA album, turning it up to full blast because her house was fully detached. Granted, she wouldn’t care if it wasn’t, because ABBA was fucking good, and SOS was exactly the kind of beat she was looking for.

As she shimmied along to the song without even meaning to, she wondered if she’d ever let anyone see her do such a thing. There were several things she only ever did alone, and happily singing along to one of her favourite bands was one of them. Say, hypothetically, if she made up with Veronica and Mac, and all four of them were in their own little weird, four-way relationship together far into the future, would she be living with them? Would they end up seeing half the things that no one had ever seen her do? It was a strange thought, but it was one that lingered for a while. She never really thought about relationships, she wasn’t sure why, but she never did. She liked romance novels and films - _a lot_ \- Duke had been right about her being fond of romance. But when it came to thinking about herself and her own future relationships, she always pictured settling for whatever guy was nice enough to stick around, and the first couple of years would be puppy dog love that would inevitably fade after the excitement of moving in one another left.

It’s why she never looked forward to it. The thought of the _boredom_ and the _commitment_ that came with marriage was honestly horrifying. It’s one of the reasons she broke things off with Peter Dawson, even if he didn’t do anything wrong. He was nice and was the least pushy guy she’d ever met, but God, the rush ended after a week, if that. She seriously missed sleeping around that much she just decided to end it - besides, Peter isn’t exactly popular or conventionally attractive, so it wasn’t doing much for her image. And sure, sleeping around means crossing paths with some particularly gross guys, but it was still _fun,_ so long as she removes the whole trauma aspect.

So now, while she vacuumed her carpet until it was completely spotless, she was thinking about why exactly she didn’t feel the same way with Veronica or Mac or Duke. The rush had yet to fade, and honestly, when she was still with them, she was scared that it would. It had yet to do that though, and she was thinking that it was to do with how unconventional their relationship had been. It couldn’t get boring, because nothing about it matched what she had been taught about relationships. She couldn’t ever picture herself ending up anything like her parents’ marriage with them, and… and now she just wanted them back more than ever, because where would she ever find anyone better?

 _Let’s… not think about that right now,_ she told herself. _Even though I should probably think about how much of an awkward position Duke is probably in right now._ She paused vacuuming for a moment. _Oh dear. That’s probably_ really _difficult for her, actually._

She turned to her cockroaches. “She’s gonna have to tell them about dating me, right?” she said. “I hope that conversation goes down okay.” She sighed sadly. “If it doesn’t, well… well at least I know she likes me back, right?”

She saw Almond twitch her antennae.

“Yeah, I agree.” She returned to vacuuming. “I shouldn’t think about that right now.”

* * *

_I definitely need to tell them._

Ever since she’d first seen Veronica and Emmy this morning, telling them both about the news was all that had been on her mind. Only, it had stayed on the tip of her tongue, mainly because they both seemed to be in a good mood today, and she could easily predict that dropping it on them would immediately ruin that, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it quite yet.

So now she decided to go easy on herself and tell them both one at a time. Currently she was residing with Emmy, sharing a free period that they both had together. The entire time, Heather had been trying to rehearse what she was going to say in her head. So far none of it sounded good, and she was starting to think that it never would, so she gave in, and opened her mouth at last.

“So, um, Heather, I-”

“Oh! Heather!” Emmy cut her off excitedly, seemingly not noticing that Heather had spoken at all. “You know what I said about getting revenge on some of the football players yesterday? I was thinking of different ways to do it last night.”

Sighing, Heather nodded. She’d go back to it in a minute. “Yeah? What did you come up with?"

“Well, I was thinking we could start some rumours, but I don’t know, is that too nice? I feel like those are easily debunkable.”

Heather raised a brow, intrigued. “What type of rumours?”

“Only ones you're comfortable with.”

“Give me an example.”

“Well, if they’re making transphobic comments, then we could always let it spread that they did, um… explicit things with you.” She winced a little. “Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

Heather just snickered. “Of course I am, it’s not like I actually did anything.”

Emmy giggled. “Then I’ll be sure to start the rumours next time I’m at soccer practice.”

“That’s a good place to start. Just don’t get too specific, otherwise you might slip up on the details.” She gazed at her for a moment, watching how she caught her bangs as they began to flop over her eye and pushed them aside, keeping both eyes visible. She tilted her head. “Your hair is different.”

“Yeah, you gave it an undercut.”

“No, I mean…” She tucked some stray bangs behind her ear. “You’re wearing it differently.”

“Oh.” Emmy looked up at her bangs. “I… I guess I am.”

Heather felt the corner of her mouth quirk up. “It suits you. I can see more of your face.” There weren’t many people in their homeroom, with the other students sitting far away from them, so Heather was able to run her fingers along the frame of her girlfriend’s face without much worry of any weird looks. Emmy’s cheeks darkened at her words.

“Thanks… I guess I’ve needed to hide it a little less lately,” she mused, twirling some blonde hair around her finger.

“Why did you feel the need to hide it?”

Emmy shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it made me feel a little more hidden, even if it didn’t hide much at all. It’s always been a little hard for me to be that open, I always feel like I’m acting strange or off for… reasons.” By how she shot the other students a look as she said that word, Heather could tell she was actually saying “my autism”. “It was nice feeling concealed, even if it meant I had a blindspot. But now I feel a lot better about everything!” She beamed happily. “I’ve been doing great lately. I’ve even gotten the cheer squad to back off from bothering me, and I did it all without Heather’s help!”

“Is that so?” Heather bit back a wince.

“Yeah. I guess with her shielding me from the school all the time I felt like I couldn’t defend myself, and I was scared to let any true colours show because of it. I mean, I know Heather’s right about how the school would come for me if they suspected I was a weird kid, but I dunno, it’s nice not having to depend on her anymore.”

“Right.” She nodded and kept a smile. “You’re… really doing okay without Heather, aren’t you?”

“I’d say so. The school’s still a bit chaotic without her, and people keep asking where she is and all, but I’m doing good!”

“That’s… good to hear.” She swallowed dryly. “But speaking of Heather, I need to tell you something.”

“You do?”

Heather stared at her for longer, holding her happy, carefree gaze. She’d never seen her this confident or outgoing, which was saying a lot, because over the years those two qualities had grown a lot already. She didn’t think they could grow any more, but apparently, Chandler’s absence had been enough to do exactly that.

“...She’s not coming back until Monday,” she sighed, kicking herself internally for pussying out.

“Oh, I was wondering why she wasn’t back today. I thought maybe I just didn’t see her.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, she just isn’t back yet.” She scratched the back of her neck. “She had a bit of a mishap yesterday, and… um… yeah, I told her to wait a couple more days.”

“A mishap? Is she okay?”

“She’s… fine. I should just probably pay her a visit later to check she’s still okay.”

Emmy frowned, raising a brow. “You’ve been paying her a lot of visits lately, Heather.”

“What? No I haven’t.”

“This would be two days in a row if you see her later.” A suspicious glint could be seen in her eyes. “Is everything definitely okay?”

“I… yeah,” Heather replied. “Yeah, everything’s fine, honest. I’m just making sure she’s not lonely.” _Fuck’s sake, why can’t I just tell her the truth?_

“That’s fair.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Do you know if you’re gonna sit with her yet?”

Heather suddenly felt a great weight fall on her, the decision suddenly becoming far too difficult to make. Why she thought this would be anything but a mess, she had no idea; of _course_ dating Chandler in the midst of her other two girlfriends taking a break from her was a recipe for disaster. She was usually so observant, but the excitement from getting with Chandler had completely blinded her. Swallowing her despair, she finally replied,

“I don’t know yet.”

* * *

Heather had done a good job with her room. It had been vacuumed, polished, tidied and organised well, and it had only taken all fucking morning. Then after lunch she’d rearranged the stuff in her drawers under her bed, which took more time than she cared to admit, so with nothing left to do, she finally let herself sink into her soft mattress, feeling her fatigue leave her the longer she allowed herself to relax.

“Okay, room cleaned, now maybe I’ll know how to clear my head.” She blew her bangs out of her face, and oh, _I have bangs now, that’s going to be irritating._ “Okay… what next…” She glanced down at herself. “Get dressed, perhaps. It’s like, 3pm.”

She forced herself to sit up after some time of not moving from the comfort of her bedsheets and went over to her closet, where she scrolled through her various options for casual clothes. Not that she really varied her outfits that much; she found a lot of comfort wearing the same skirts and shirts and dresses over and over again, even if she knew she’d look great in whatever she was wearing.

“Crop top again?” she asked, grabbing her shoulderless crop top and glancing at the cockroach tank sitting on the other side of her room. “Yeah, I agree. Crop top it is.”

She grabbed a black skirt to go with it, as well as a strapless bra, and slid her gown off and quickly dressed herself. When she got around to putting her shirt on, she went to pull out her hair that had been tucked inside her shirt as usual, only to realise there was nothing to pull. It was still incredibly jarring, to the point where she went to look in her mirror to see how short it was in the back, though it was hard to see without another mirror to assist her. Regardless, both her shoulder blades were exposed, now unable to be hidden by any hair. She looked fine - she wasn’t insecure about people seeing her back or anything, it was just _weird._

While gazing at her reflection and trying to calculate how many months it would take for her hair to fully grow back, her eyes dropped a little further down the something peeking just above the waistband of her skirt. That stupid fucking tattoo that she was usually able to ignore now that the pain had faded and it being in a place she couldn’t normally see. It had been a while since she’d seen it, actually - she had hardly looked at her reflection over the past two weeks, nevermind look at her whole self.

She stared at it for a while, wishing more and more that drunken her and drunken Veronica had not met drunken Betty and made such a terrible permanent decision. The worst part was that the tattoo had admittedly grown on her, because Betty was in fact a very skilled artist despite not being a professional, to the point where she kept up her skills even while drunk. That, and having something based off of someone she loved drilled into her skin forever, while completely and utterly foolish, wasn’t so bad when the person she loved was still by her side with her own version of the tattoo on her thigh.

Now it was just a painful reminder of her absence.

_If only I wasn’t so fucked up, then keeping a relationship wouldn’t be so hard._

She snapped her gaze back up and glared at herself, immediately remembering Duke’s instructions.

“Not happening. I am not spiralling again.”

Grabbing a loose maroon cardigan and throwing it on, she rushed over to her cockroaches’ tank and gave it a quick spray of water.

“Better get out of here before I break another mirror,” she told them, giving them both a wave. “I’ll see you later.”

She grabbed her keys and purse on the way out and hurried to her car. The drive felt like it didn’t really happen, since she was in the 7/11 parking lot in what felt like a minute, and the worry that she was dissociating made her hurry towards the door, grab some BQ corn nuts as well as a cup for a slushie. She didn’t even realise she’d done it until she had it in her hand, and giving a disgruntled sigh, she accepted she was about to spend her money on this awful, awful drink and proceeded to fill it up with red mush. She paid for her items and considered sitting in the patch of woods behind the building, only to hear voices of other teens the closer she got. She didn’t normally fear other teens, especially not ones younger than her, and by the sounds of their shrill, cracking voices, she could tell the boys back there were definitely younger than her, but in her current state, she was unsure how threatening she really appeared. Not even because of her short hair or bandaged hand, but because of how self conscious she felt about how she was presenting herself. Her confidence was still wavering after everything that had happened, after all.

Shrugging, she turned around and walked back to her car, settling on the hood of her car, placing her drink and snack between her thighs as she busied herself with lighting a cigarette. While doing so, she found that a positive to having short hair at the very least, was that it didn’t blow in her face and get in the way while trying to do things. Oh, eating ice cream was going to be _so_ much easier.

She would swap between breathing in smoke and taking a gulp of her ice cold drink, which by the way, tasted a lot better when it was cherry flavoured (but it still tasted pretty shit), and with each ache she felt in the head from the ice, she felt her head become clearer. She could get used to this.

She felt a strange sense of calmness fall on her which brought her back to the good mood she had this morning, only for it to be snatched away from her again when an old, janky-looking car pulled up into the spot next to her, despite there being plenty of empty spaces far away from her. That wasn’t what brought her mood down though, even if it did irritate her. It was the window rolling down to let a terribly grating voice out.

“Smoking isn’t good for your lungs, you know.”

That voice was the very last voice she needed to hear right now, as well as one she least expected in a fucking 7/11 parking lot. Snarling, she turned to the window and narrowed her eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The window rolled down completely, and Ms Fleming rested her arms on the window frame as she leaned out.

“Well, I was coming to get some snacks before going home for the day, but then I saw you sitting out here on your own, and-”

“Nevermind, I don’t care.” She turned away and sipped her slushie furiously. “Go get your shit and leave me alone.”

Fleming didn’t get out of her car.

“Your hair is different.”

“Is it? Wow, I hardly noticed.” She flicked her cigarette onto the floor. “Didn’t you hear me? I said leave me alone.”

“I was just… wondering why you didn’t come to school today,” she said. Heather slowly turned her head towards her and snarled.

“It’s none of your business.”

“If it isn’t for illness reasons, I think it kind of is-”

“We’re not in school, I don’t have to tell you.” She gnawed on her straw. “Why do you even care?”

Fleming took a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you when you got back from your suspension,” she confessed. “I tried talking to Veronica about you, but she said-”

“We’re not talking right now,” she snapped.

“I know, that’s what she said.” She cleared her throat nervously. “She said a lot of things, actually, and it all resonated with me a lot.”

Intrigued, but still incredibly bitter, Heather raised a brow and listened.

“I know I put a lot of pressure on you, Heather,” she began. “There wasn’t much communication between us and I should have been more considerate about your feelings.”

On its own, that sounded fairly genuine. So she waited for the dreaded,

“But-”

“ _Uuuuggghhh._ ” She threw her head back and let out a loud groan. “But _what?_ You were just that desperate to get on TV?”

“No! No, Heather, you misunderstand.”

“Do I?”

“I never intended for you to get hurt, and from what Veronica told me, you got hurt a lot, and I just want you to know that is the last thing I wanted to happen.”

“Really?” She let out a bitter chuckle. “Then why did it happen?”

Fleming hesitated. “I didn’t handle it as well as I could’ve. It was an issue personal to you, and it was wrong of me to take the focus away from you. I should’ve focused on you a lot more, Heather.”

“Go on.”

Fleming seemed surprised by her compliance. “I wanted to spread a good message, and I thought that having you help me do that would not only be effective in spreading that message, but also give you a positive experience when it comes to helping people, because, you know, a lot of students tend to… let’s say ‘clash’ with you.” She offered a smile. “That was the outcome I wanted - I never wanted to hurt you in any way.”

Taking another sip and popping her lips as soon as the straw left her mouth, Heather stared her down dangerously.

“Bullshit.”

Fleming’s smile fell, and it was almost as satisfying as seeing the bandage over her face and dark bruises under her eyes. Oh, how she hoped her nose would heal in a crooked fashion.

“Heather-”

“Let me get this straight. You organised a sexual harassment awareness week, which on its own is an awful idea, but let’s say for a second there was a chance a singular week of saying that rape is a thing that happens would make more of a difference than teaching people about consent from day one. Even if that could be an outcome, you thought that dragging me into it _without my consent_ and then putting me on TV _without my consent_ was a good way to spread a _good message?_ ” She swivelled around and slammed her heels down against her car hood. Usually she’d be more careful with her Porsche, but right now, rage was burning in her veins. “I didn’t want people to know. I didn’t want the school to know, I don’t want students to know. And the school doesn’t even know the _half_ of the shit that I’ve been through.”

Fleming’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Heather, you told the school you almost came into contact with sexual abuse-”

“Yeah, I did. By accident. But you know what? You wanna know about me so badly, wanna pick apart my whole self and crack the code of ‘why is Heather Chandler such a bitch’ and possibly heal her in the process? You want that fucking medal as your one and only medal for your pathetic career? Then how about I tell you this: I’ve been raped. I’ve been raped more than once. I’ve been pressured into sex, I’ve been refused the option to stop, the option to leave, the option to say no. Whether it be by gross high school boys just trying to get a hard-on, or by college kids grooming a young, naive teenage girl who they should have told to just go home until she was old enough to hang out with a bunch of _adults,_ I was _raped._ It all fucked with my head in ways you’ll never understand, because for so long, I thought that going through all of that was _normal._ And that right there is the big problem, because _God,_ it shouldn’t be normalised, but it _is._ It’s seen as so awful, but it’s still seen as _normal._ _Why?_ ”

Seeing the look of shock or dismay or shame on Fleming’s expression was just so gratifying, and though she may regret letting all of this out to her later, she listened to her impulses and continued.

“And you, you thought you could fix all that with some flashy posters, charity events that would be forgotten the next day and some TV cameras pointing at a seventeen year old girl who was raped, waiting for her to spill her trauma in front of the very type of people who caused it would fix everything. If you legitimately believe that would have done anything, you’re more of a fucking airhead than I thought. But you know what? That’s a lot better than the truth. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you didn’t care. So long as all eyes and all lenses were pointed your way and seeing you say the words “rape is wrong”, that’s all that matters. It was never about me, and it was never about anyone else who has been through the same shit as I have. It was about acting as if you were doing something useful. Well guess what? The adults are fucking _powerless,_ not because they can’t do anything, but because they _don’t._ ” She snarled bitterly. “You signed up to be a counsellor thinking you could make a change, so why are you so fucking useless at your job?”

The fact that those last few words seemed to hit her the hardest was absolutely insulting, but by no means a surprise. She simply glowered at her as she waited for her to give some sort of response, which took her a long time.

“I know you’re angry, Heather,” she began weakly. “And I think you have a right to be. But you don’t need to insult my career like that.” She looked up at her in an attempt to be brave. “Because I don’t think you’re one to talk. There have been so many students who have come to me for my help because of something _you_ did to them.”

“They needed counselling because of me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, now that _does_ make me feel awful.” She placed a hand on her chest and pouted. “Sending them to _you_ for guidance is quite possibly the worst thing I’ve ever done.” Her lip slowly curled into a snarl, all the while she took satisfaction in stealing all of Fleming’s words away, an act she didn’t know was even possible.

“Now, do me a favour and never talk to me again,” Heather sneered. “If you really care about making a difference, how about instead of asking the victims of sexual abuse to speak out about their trauma, you do a lick of research and start teaching people - _especially_ boys - to not do it to begin with? Because the fact that I know more people who don’t bother with consent than the people who do is a problem worth addressing, you know. Just try and do it without any cameras around, okay, sweetheart?”

The whole time she had been taking subconscious sips of her slushie, which definitely helped keeping her head clear, and with her final word, she noticed her cup was near-empty. She popped the lid off and threw the liquid at the bottom into her mouth, before crushing the cup and flinging it at Fleming. She managed to flinch out of the way before it hit her, though it just ended up landing inside her car. She stared blankly at the mess, like she was completely and utterly defeated, and the sight made Heather cackle.

“Oh, and don’t even mention a word of what I said to _anyone,_ if you know what’s good for you,” she warned. “You wanna prove you care about us? Keep it confidential, for once in your sorry life.”

Fleming didn’t look back up at her. She just continued to stare at the cup on her floor.

“Do you think you can get away with anything because you’re rich and popular, Heather?” she murmured. Heather scowled at her.

“No,” she replied. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m just fucking pissed off right now. Wouldn’t you be too if you were forced in front of an audience to talk in depth about your trauma?” Her shoulders slumped. “Unless you mean in general. Again, the answer is no… as I recently found out.”

Fleming sighed, before turning the ignition in her car, and Heather was flooded with relief.

“I hope school goes alright, Heather,” was the final thing she said, before the engine of her car made loud, strained noises and her vehicle finally drove away. Heather stared after it, feeling a confusing blend of emotions. She was satisfied, yet angry, puzzled, yet serene. She had no idea where _any_ of what she had just said had come from, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever said any of it out loud before, not to that extent. So to say it in front of Ms Fleming, as much as it was worth it, had felt strange. She would have preferred to say all of it to herself first, before revealing it to anyone else.

There was also the worry of what may happen if Fleming didn’t keep things quiet, which was entirely possible. Perhaps she’d reveal it to the whole school as some sort of revenge for littering in her car? No, no, she wasn’t so overtly cruel. She could only hope for the best rather than dread the worst.

“What was _that_ about?”

Heather flinched at another unexpected, but much more welcome voice. She looked away from the roads in the distance to look down and see a familiar green Jeep pulled up in front of her, with Duke leaning out the window.

“You saw that?”

“Only from a distance. I heard none of it. Though I did see you throw a cup at her - that was funny.”

“I think I probably said too much to her,” Heather replied. “But I also felt like I needed to say it.” She hopped down from her hood and walked over to her. “How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t - I was going to stop here and go to your house.”

“Ah.”

Duke pulled her car up next to hers and got out, and they both met in the middle. It was then that Heather realised she wasn’t entirely sure what to say or do. Should she talk to her like normal? Should she add a pet name somewhere in the sentence? Should she try and sneak a kiss in plain view of anyone in the 7/11 right now? How did she do this with Veronica and Mac again?

“Hey,” she eventually settled on. Nice going, Heather.

“Hey,” Duke replied. Heather could see her eyes darting around a little frantically, avoiding her gaze. She frowned.

“Is something wrong?”

“Um…” Duke bit the inside of her cheek, and though sheepish her was cute, she was more concerned with what was on the tip of her tongue. She was usually so blunt; whatever this was had to be serious.

“Whatever it is, I won’t freak out.”

Duke sighed guiltily and looked up at her with an apologetic gaze, and already Heather’s mind was racing with what she was about to say, and none of the suggestions were good. She settled on one particular prediction though, as it was one she had already considered earlier that day. It just hurt to think it may actually be true.

“So… okay, basically, I really need to tell Veronica and Heather about us.” She gestured to them both. “I can’t keep something like that a secret, not when I’m dating both of them. And I tried to today, but I just… I couldn’t bring myself to.”

Unfortunately, she had predicted right.

“Oh.”

“It’s- it’s not because I’m ashamed!” Duke blurted out. “It’s really not, I promise.” A hand grasped hers, and though she liked the feeling, it didn’t stop the pain in her chest. “It’s that… I just don’t want to make anything complicated, because it _is_ complicated if I go through with this, and I don’t want to put that stress on them because I know they’re going to want to support me but maybe be mad at me too and-” 

“Heather.”

Duke stopped talking.

“It’s okay, I get it.” She tightened her grip on her hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to date me.”

Duke’s gaze saddened. “I don’t want to break up with you.” She bit her lip. “But even if I did tell them, it wouldn’t make anything easier, so I... “

“I know,” she murmured. “I was thinking about it earlier. I get it if you can’t be with me.”

“But I don’t want to just _give up,_ ” Duke muttered. “You know me, I’m too stubborn for that.”

“I don’t see what you can do,” Heather said. “You’d be stuck between two girlfriends and their ex.” Ouch, that hurt to say out loud. “And I understand why you’d pick them over me. You know, other than the fact that I was the one who fucked everything up, you’ve also been dating them longer.

Duke’s gaze narrowed in determination.

“Our relationship… can just be put on _hold_ for now.”

“On hold?”

“Yeah. On hold.” She offered a half-smile. “For now we’ll just… live in a weird limbo until things become less complicated.”

Heather looked at her doubtfully. “Will it ever not be complicated?”

Duke smiled at her more. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

Heather still couldn’t be sure. She still wasn’t sure that anything would go back to how it was, if anyone would ever forgive her. Like Duke had said, forgiveness wasn’t something she could earn through planned out events - it was something that may happen, or it may not. Duke forgiving her for what she’d done in the past didn’t have to happen, it all happened down to Duke’s personal choice to stay, and Veronica or Veronica’s friends doing the same seemed so unlikely to happen.

As she pulled Duke in for a hug, though, something Ms Fleming had said to her echoed in her mind.

_“Do you think you can get away with anything because you’re rich and popular, Heather?”_

She had answered no, because it was true. Popularity had failed her, both recently, and in the past. As she held Duke, she reminisced on how popularity had failed her friendship with her, and what exactly it was that had gotten her to see that. Other than Duke being on the brink of starvation, it had been her words that had really struck her; how Duke would always tell her the very things she was doing wrong, and it wasn’t until she finally accepted them and apologised did their friendship begin to heal.

She tried to get away with her wrongdoings, and she failed. Ironically enough, that’s when things began to turn around. That’s when she stopped having to get away with anything at all, at least with Heather. It was difficult, but it was ultimately for the better.

She had to do that again, not with the person she wanted to forgive her, but with the person who needed to hear her apologise. She couldn’t get away with this, not anymore. Nothing was going to change otherwise.

“Hey,” she spoke up, pulling away from Duke. “I appreciate you offering to come and see me after school, but honestly, you’ve seen me _way_ too much lately. Surely Veronica and Mac think you’re going insane?”

“Well-” Duke stared at the floor sheepishly. “Emmy did actually say that today.”

“Exactly. You should go and visit them instead."

“But I wanted to check that you were okay-”

“I’m fine, honestly.” She cupped her cheek and smiled sweetly. “You don’t need to worry about me - I followed your advice. Why do you think I’m out here?” She stepped away, back towards her car. “Besides, I have something I need to do.”

Duke’s brow furrowed. “Which is…?”

“I’ll let you know if it goes well,” Heather said, opening her door. “And if it doesn’t… I’m sure you’ll hear about it either way.” She hopped into the driver’s seat, but didn’t quite shut the door, seeing as Duke still hadn’t moved from where she stood. “Seriously, Heather, you should go and see your actual girlfriends before they start seeing you as the traitor you’re scared of being seen as.”

“They’ll joke, but they don’t think I’m a traitor.”

“Still. Are either of them free tonight?”

“Emmy said she was going to hang with Veronica.”

“Go join her.” She smiled and waved goodbye, leaving Duke confused and without the option to stay with her. She appreciated it, she really did, and she would much rather sit and read with her than do what she was about to do, but more than anything she wanted things to get better, and to do that, she had to accept the things she had done wrong. She drove out of the parking lot, giving one last wave to Duke on her way out. While driving, though, she realised that she wasn’t actually sure where she was going, and though for some reason she had faith that she’d remember a certain address, it had slipped her mind.

_Wait… where exactly did I put it?_

She stopped at a red light and began to rummage through her clutter in her car, and seconds before the light turned to yellow, she found it.

JD’s note.

She kept hold of it as she drove, occasionally glancing at it again to check if she remembered the road name, and making a fair share of wrong turns. She finally found her destination though, by some miracle. She may be bad at directions, but she could remember landmarks well enough. Slowing down in the cul-de-sac before finally stopping in what was a tight squeeze for a parking space, she took several deep, much-needed breaths, before stepping out and making her way up to the right house. Her fist was clenched and sweat was seeping into the sheet of paper being crushed in her palm, and for a while she just stood in front of the door with a speeding heart and racing thoughts, until she finally told herself to woman-up and forced herself to knock on the door. She stupidly did it with her injured hand, so that hurt a bit.

It didn’t take too long for someone to answer, though the person on the other side wasn’t the person she was looking for.

“Hello?” he greeted.

Heather swallowed dryly. “Hi,” she forced out. “I was wondering if Betty was home?”


	2. Let Those Stitches Sit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather confronts Betty at last.

“I was wondering if Betty was home?”

The man staring back at her, who she assumed to be Betty’s father, was… a lot. He had a cyan mohawk that definitely required a lot of hair gel, a black denim jacket with far too many patches for her to process and an overall Betty-esque appearance, except the punk was multiplied by ten. It was kind of intimidating, to be honest, and had it not been for his soft gaze and strangely sweet sounding voice, she would have been backing away slowly.

“I’m afraid not - she’s with a friend right now,” he replied, giving an apologetic smile. “She won’t be back until late either.”

Heather hissed a curse under her breath.

“Were you planning to meet up today? I can tell her you were here, and-”

“Oh, no no, that’s not necessary,” Heather cut in. “I mean, I do need to see her as soon as possible, but, um, it’s hard to explain.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ll just come back tomorrow."

“Oh, tomorrow we’ll be furniture shopping, I’m afraid.”

“Furniture shopping?” That was the last thing she expected either of these people to do in their spare time. Also, who goes furniture shopping with their parents anyway? “Whatever. It’s fine, I’ll just-”

“Oh, hey, Heather.”

Hearing JD’s voice from behind Betty’s dad made her jump in surprise, but it was also a bit of a relief.

“I forgot you lived here,” she grunted.

“Oh! Are you two friends?” Betty’s dad gestured to them both. JD gave an uncertain look.

“Well, I mean-”

“Yes,” Heather replied bluntly. JD gave her a look of astonishment, but said nothing.

“Well, I’ll leave you both to it then!” Betty’s dad said with a smile, before leaving them both by the door. Once he was gone, Heather winced as she looked back to JD.

“That… does not have to be a reciprocated feeling. It just slipped out.”

JD gave a snort and shrugged. “I just didn’t expect you to ever say such a thing.”

Heather cleared her throat and looked away gingerly. “Right.” She glanced back up and saw him looking her up and down.

“Your hair’s different,” he stated dryly. Heather groaned and rolled her eyes.

“You don’t say?”

JD’s eyes dropped to her hands, specifically the one that was bandaged, and for a moment, she dreaded him asking what she had done. Instead, he just looked back up at her calmly.

“Rough week?”

“You have no idea.”

“I won’t ask.”

“Thanks.”

He rested his hip against the doorframe. “Was my note useful at all?”

“Well, yeah. I  _ did _ forget the way here, so thanks for the directions. Just too bad it was all for nothing.” She crossed her arms. “Do you know when she’ll next be free? I’d rather just get this over with.”

“Dunno. We all kinda hang out with Veronica and Heather on Saturdays though-”

“Fuck.” She buried her face in her hands. “It’s not like I could even come after tomorrow though - my parents will be back home and I’ll be properly grounded again.” She tapped a foot anxiously against the concrete step she stood on. “I guess I could sneak out while they’re in church on Sunday, but that doesn’t give me very long to say what I need to say.”

JD snickered. “Your parents go to church?”

“They’re Catholic.”

“Are  _ you _ Catholic?”

“Are you kidding me? Do you know how many morning-after pills I’ve taken throughout the years?” she scoffed. “Catholicism’s God would condemn me to hell.”

“Once a demon, always a demon,” JD quipped, lifting himself off the doorframe. “Looks like you’re not available for the rest of the week, huh?”

“No.”

JD clicked his tongue, then reached into his trenchcoat (why was he  _ still _ wearing that thing indoors?) and pulled out a pen and paper. Not the weirdest set of things he’d kept in there, so she wasn’t phased in any way.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he leaned the paper against the wall to write.

“Giving you yet another set of directions,” he replied with a pen lid trapped between his teeth. He soon enough finished, then handed it to her. She tried to read it as quickly as she could, but reading things quickly wasn’t her forte, so she gave him a questioning glance. “Betty’s at Martha’s,” he explained. “If you wanna catch her before school next week, you best do it now.”

“Now? But if she’s with Martha, I’m gonna be interrupting them.” She shoved the slip of paper into her pocket. “I don’t think she’d appreciate that, and it’ll make my plans a lot harder.”

JD shrugged. “She won’t appreciate it, but it’s now or never, right?”

Heather took a moment to debate her options with herself, before making her decision and giving a sigh. “If I don’t do it now, I’ll put it off and draw all of this out for longer than it needs to be.”

JD gave a half-smile in an attempt to be supportive. “Good choice.”

Heather opened her mouth to thank him before leaving, but before she could speak, footsteps behind JD returned and Betty’s father returned, now eyeing her weirdly.

“Wait, JD, did you say her name was Heather?”

JD frowned at him. “Yeah?”

He narrowed his gaze at her, and suddenly it was no longer friendly. Not malicious or disgusted necessarily, but certainly not  _ pleased. _ Somehow it was scarier than any angry glare her own father had given her, probably because she’d gotten such a good impression of him just a few minutes ago.

“Heather Chandler?” he asked, pointing at her. Sweating nervously, she slowly nodded. His gaze darkened a little more.

“Aren’t you the girl who almost outed my daughter?”

“I-” her words got caught in her throat. “Well, I mean, um-”

“Okay, bye, Heather!” JD interrupted loudly, gesturing for her to make a run for it. “Thanks for stopping by, hope you’re doing well!”

“Yeah, uh, bye. Sorry? Yeah, sorry.” She wasn’t one for caring whether or not parents liked her, but leaving Betty’s father with such an awful impression just felt wrong, so even though she was incredibly uncomfortable standing there, she struggled to properly turn around and leave. JD noticed and sighed, giving her shoulder a shove.

“Don’t worry about him, he just cares about her a lot. I’ll try and explain things a little better.”

“Right. Thanks.” She shot him a brief smile, before hurrying down the steps. “See you at school.”

“See ya.”

She didn’t look back, just hurried back to her car and (painfully slowly) pulled out of the cul-de-sac. God, how could people bear to live on roads you had to drive  _ backwards _ to escape from? It was so fucking tedious. Eventually she was out, though, and she pulled out the directions JD had given her. She cursed him for having messy handwriting, but she eventually got it, and soon enough, she was on the right road, which thankfully, wasn’t a cul-de-sac. The houses were small though - as small as Betty’s had looked. She couldn’t imagine living in such a cramped place with her parents, there was nowhere to hide and nowhere to throw a party. How did either of them live?

_ Maybe I’m just incredibly spoiled. _

She hesitantly stepped out of her car and walked to the right house number. Knowing that Betty was most certainly on the other side made her all the more nervous, but like JD said, it was now or never. She rang the doorbell and stepped backwards, awaiting for the door to open. It took a few moments, but after hearing some talking from inside the house, the door finally moved.

For some reason, she wasn’t actually expecting to see Betty on the other side.

“Heather?” Betty said, her tone a mixture of confusion and disdain. She bit back a wince and gave a small wave.

“Hi.”

Green eyes narrowed at her. “What are you doing here?”

“I… um… I was looking for you.”

“How did you know I was  _ here? _ Or know Martha’s address, for that matter?”

“Connections,” she replied bluntly, not sure if she wanted to announce her strange friendship with JD publicly yet. “I know you’re probably having a nice night and all, but I need to talk to you.”

“You’re right. I  _ am _ having a nice night,” she sneered, folding her arms. “Not sure if I want it to be ruined.”

“Betty, who is it?” she heard Martha call from somewhere inside the house. Betty maintained eye contact with her the whole time she replied,

“I don’t think you wanna know.”

Heather sighed. “Look, I know this is a bad time, but it’s a lot more convenient for me to talk to you now than later.”

“Is your own convenience all that matters here?” Betty asked, arching a brow. “Because that’s typical of you.”

“No, that’s not what I-” she groaned, but took a deep breath to maintain her composure. “My parents come home tomorrow so I’ll go back to being grounded, and doing this at school isn’t ideal because there’s too much prying ears for me to have a serious conversation. I’m sorry, but I need to do this now.”

Betty seemed to be considering her reasons, up until Martha appeared by her side, peeking out the doorway with a surprised look on her face.

“Um… Heather?” she questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“Apparently she wants to apologise.” Betty rested her hand on the doorframe and let out a thoughtful sigh. “What d’you say, should we let her in?”

Heather nervously looked back and forth between them, waiting for an answer. It almost felt like she was being judged on whether she was going to heaven or hell. Eventually, Martha gave a smile that wasn’t entirely happy, and said,

“She can come in.”

Betty hung her head. “I knew you’d say that. You’re just so nice.”

“I think we should hear whatever she has to say.”

“It better be good.” She shot Heather a glare, before stepping inside the house to give her space to come inside. Martha stayed on the porch and held the door open for her, offering a smile as she shuffled past her, and quite literally shuffled, because holy shit this porch was small. She couldn’t even stretch her arms out to their full length, it was that narrow.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she slid her shoes off, avoiding all eye contact. Martha just closed the door behind her.

“Your hair is different,” Martha said.

“Yeah.” Heather ran a hand through her hair nervously. “It’s shorter.”   


“I like it,” Martha replied, before walking ahead and going into a room that Heather assumed was the living room. Stepping further into the house, she realised that she really took her own house for granted. The stairs were right in front of the door here, with a narrow corridor up ahead and splitting off towards the back door and another door that likely led to the kitchen. She’d been here for maybe a minute maximum, and already she understood why less wealthy kids resented rich people like her. She knew she had good reasons to hide in her room all the time, but coming face to face with this type of living space suddenly made her feel incredibly ungrateful.

Shaking the thought away, she went into the room Martha had disappeared into and saw her and Betty both sitting on one couch fairly close together, despite there being a fair bit of room left on it. She already knew they wouldn’t want her sitting on the same couch as them, so she went to sit on the other one conveniently facing towards them. She sat down and kept her posture stiff, not wanting to get too comfortable. It wasn’t like she could, not with Betty glaring at her bitterly the whole time. Once she was sitting, Betty leaned forward, brushed her (now completely purple) hair out of her face and spoke.

“Now, where should we begin?”

* * *

_ “Fine, we’re damaged. _

_ Really damaged. _

_ But that does not make us wise. _

_ We’re not special, we’re not different. _

_ We don’t choose who lives or dies. _

_ Let’s be normal, see bad movies, sneak a beer and watch TV. _

_ We’ll bake brownies, or go bowling, don’t you want a life with me? _

_ Can’t we be seventeen? That’s all I want to do. _

_ If you could let me in, I could be good with you.” _

“You have a nice voice.”

Veronica yelped in surprise at hearing Mara’s voice. He whipped his head over to his doorway and saw Mara standing there with Duke just behind her.

“Jesus.” He quickly flung his guitar off of his shoulders. “I didn’t know either of you were coming over.”

“In fairness, I thought you did, I was just tagging along with her,” Duke said, pointing to Mara. “You didn’t tell us you could play guitar.”

“Oh, well, uh, I’m not very good.”

Both of his girlfriends sat on either side of him on the sofa embedded into his wall, which while a little cramped, was surprisingly comfortable.

“What are you talking about? That sounded amazing!” Mara chirped, grabbing the guitar from the floor and strumming each individual string with interest. “Was that a song you wrote?”

“Yeah.”

“You write songs?” Duke teased, shoving him with her elbow. “And you didn’t tell us about this,  _ why? _ ”

“I mean, I  _ can _ write songs, but they’re not really any good. It’s not like I finish any of them.” He sheepishly took the guitar from Mara. “The one I was just playing has been sitting around for a few months now, in case you couldn’t tell. I’m not exactly seventeen anymore.” He began to strum the chords of the song absentmindedly.

“When did you start writing it?” Mara asked.

“Hmm… it started as some random lyrics I wrote down in my diary in class maybe… three months ago? Then I decided to do something with it a little bit later.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I haven’t touched it in a while though, since the thing that inspired me to write it briefly got better, before getting worse again.”

Duke sighed remorsefully next to her. “Heather?”

Veronica frowned. “How’d you guess?”

“Mainly the ‘if you could let me in’ part.”

Veronica sadly nodded. “I suppose it’s a little obvious.” He adjusted the guitar so it sat on his lap properly, with Heather and Heather shuffling away to give him enough room. “I don’t think I’ll complete the song - like I said, I never do. I just thought about her a little more today, so I thought singing it out would help.”

“Why were you thinking about her?” Duke asked.

“She was meant to come back today, and she didn’t. I prepared myself to see her and it went to waste.” He glanced down at his thigh and reached around his guitar to pull his skirt up, catching a glimpse of the image that had inspired him to pick up his dust-covered guitar in the first place. It seems both of his girlfriends noticed, as Mara’s hand landed on the hand on his thigh, while Duke’s hand rested on his shoulder.

“You know, that tattoo doesn’t  _ have _ to mean her,” Mara said. “If that makes you feel any better.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself,” Veronica said. “But it doesn’t change the fact that she has one that matches mine.” He let out a groan. “Let’s never give Betty alcohol and a tattoo pen at the same time ever again.”

“I can take half the blame for that,” Duke said guiltily. “As I do remember it happening, albeit vaguely.”

“Yeah, you need to make it up to me,” Veronica agreed, placing his guitar back on the ground to cup Duke’s chin and grinning at her impishly and planting a kiss on her lips. It made a flustered hum escape her which made him feel smug, as well as feeling himself slip further into his sappy mushy feelings. “So, idea, you come hang out with Heather, Betty, Martha, JD and I on Saturday.”

“Hm?” Duke blinked at her, still slightly dazed by the surprise kiss.

“Oh! You should! Since you sit with us now and everything,” Mara chipped.

“Also, like I said, it’s to make up for letting the tattoo thing happen, so I’m not giving you a choice,” Veronica said.

“So, basically, you’re forcing me to hang out with your friends?” Duke said, raising a brow. “I feel like you could have used this opportunity for something more exciting.

“I don’t think you realise how exciting it is to not be torn between two worlds anymore, Heather,” Veronica said. “Heather always got so bitter when I didn’t spend all my time with her. I get she’s insecure about her image and doesn’t want to be associated with people like them, but also, she should get over herself, because those are my friends.”

Duke gazed at her earnestly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Veronica clicked his tongue. “It’s weird to not have to choose between my friends and girlfriend anymore, and it shouldn’t be. I like to think I didn’t let her control something like that, and I don’t think she did, but now I know what it’s like spending time with them without worrying about how much it’s irritating Heather, and it’s great.” He rolled his skirt back over his thigh. “And look, as chaotic as the night was, that time we all came together to help JD escape from his house was… nice. I’d never seen everyone work together like that, and after the worst was over, we were all able to just laugh and talk and be  _ friendly, _ and I remember being so happy, and yet so sad, because I knew it would never happen again.” He glanced at Mara. “Or at least, I thought it would never happen again.”

Mara offered a smile. “Well, I’m glad you don’t feel like that anymore, Ronnie.” She planted a kiss on his cheek, making him grin stupidly. “And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like that.”

“You haven’t in a very long time, Mara. You don’t need to apologise.”

“I feel like I have though,” Duke said. Veronica sighed.

“You held an  _ actual _ grudge against them, so it’s a little different. With Heather it’s just... “

“A need to uphold her image?” Mara guessed.

“Yeah, that.” Though his thigh was covered, he still knew what was hiding beneath the skirt - he always would. He stared at it sadly, until the sound of Duke picking up his guitar dragged his attention towards him. 

“You should bring your guitar over to my house, we can play our respective instruments together.”

Veronica snickered at the thought. “You play an instrument?”

“She plays the drums!” Mara exclaimed. “I haven’t heard her play them in a long time though.”

“That’s because it’s hard to play when my parents are home,” she said. “They don’t like me making ruckus. It’s fine when my brothers do it though."

“You could always bring them to my house instead,” Mara suggested. “You could both bring your instruments over, and I can… uh… I can sing? I don’t really play anything.”

“I’m sure your voice is wonderful,” Veronica commented. “Would you ever want to sing in front of us?”

“I could sing along with your song, actually.”

“I’ll show you the lyrics,” Veronica said, getting up to grab his diary from his bed. He flickered through the right page until he found the messy scribbles that sort of formed verses of the song. “Here.” He handed it over, and Mara happily read over them. As she did, Veronica glanced at Duke, who seemed to be lost in thought. “You okay, Heather?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, gazing at the guitar longingly. “I was just wondering, would a piano be a good instrument for this song?”

“I suppose? It’s a soft song, so that would make sense.”

“Would you  _ want _ someone to play the piano?”

“Sure. Why, can you play the piano too?”

Duke shook her head. “I was just wondering.”

* * *

“I... probably should have figured out what to say on the way here,” Heather admitted. Why she always overestimated herself in terms of how little planning her speeches and apologies needed, she had no idea. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Saying ‘sorry’ might be a good start,” Betty jabbed. “That’s what you’re here to do, right? Apologise?”

“Well… yes, I am, it’s just…” She stared at her leg as it began to bounce rapidly. “There’s a lot more to say than just ‘sorry’, isn’t there?”

“You tell me, it’s your apology.”

Heather groaned to herself. What she wanted to say was on the tip of her tongue, but actually saying it and letting herself be humbled in front of two of the people she’d happily ridiculed - one of them for literal years - was a lot harder than she thought it would be.

“I… I  _ am _ sorry,” Heather forced out. It shouldn’t have been so hard - she’d gotten so used to saying those words lately, after all. But Veronica, Heather and Heather were so much easier to apologise to, because her genuine love for them outweighed her pride. Right now, though, she had to completely demolish her pride quicker than she had ever done, and it was incredibly strenuous.

“And?” Betty prompted after sitting in silence for a few long moments.

“And… um… I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that,” she said. “You or JD. Or Heather. Or anyone else. It was crude and stupid.” She bit her tongue as her head raced to organise her thoughts, but everything she wanted to say was just so jumbled, and God, she knew how much of an insincere bitch she probably sounded like right now.

She looked up to see Martha opening her mouth, looking as if she was about to thank her for her apology, but Betty placed a hand on her shoulder and cut her off.

“Why should I trust that?” she asked. “Why should I trust  _ you? _ I may not have known you for that long, but I know  _ of _ you. I know what you’ve done to so many people, including my own friends.” She nodded to Martha, whose head drooped gingerly. “Do you seriously expect me to forgive you after saying a simple sorry? Do you really think I don’t see right through it? I know all you  _ really _ want is for your girlfriends to come back to you and for everything to go back to normal. You don’t actually care about what you’ve done, do you?”

“No! I mean, yes? I  _ do _ care, that’s not-” She paused, and sighed. “Okay, you’re sort of right. I  _ do _ want Veronica and Ma-  _ Heather _ back, and I  _ do _ want everything to go back to normal-”

“Of course.” Betty slumped against the back of the couch in defeat, rolling her eyes.

“But I know now that’s not going to happen!” Heather protested, which seemed to intrigue them both. “I know I can’t have what I had before. I know if I want to get my relationships back, I’m gonna have to change a lot of shit about myself. I know I actually have to figure out how to be  _ better _ , even if I’m still not entirely sure how. Karma’s a bitch, not in a spiritual sense, but in a sense that people eventually give up on you if you fuck up too much, and I know that now - I know that first hand. So  _ yes, _ I’ll be upfront about it, a lot of this  _ is _ for my benefit too.”

“At least you’re honest,” Betty muttered with an arched brow.

“But it’s not just for mine,” Heather clarified. “I don’t know if I  _ will _ get my relationships back, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I make amends… somehow. So I’m here. Apologising. I’m sorry. I did a stupid and selfish thing, as usual, and it was incredibly…  _ apathetic _ for me to throw you and others under the bus like that.” She took a deep breath. “Yeah, um, that’s what I wanted to say, I think.”

Betty narrowed her gaze. There seemed to be elements of conflict in there, but she still didn’t seem entirely trusting of her. It was frustrating, but she had to remind herself that this wasn’t about her own need for closure, it was about Betty.

“Why did you do it?”

She hadn’t expected her to ask that, so she didn’t have an immediate answer.

“I… um…” She swallowed dryly. “I’d rather not tell you.”

Betty leered at her. “Why not? If you’re so desperate to make amends, why are you  _ still _ trying to hold up some sort of godly image for yourself?”

“Um, Betty-” Martha spoke up.

“How many people do you keep your walls up for?”

“Betty-”

“Do you even let them down for your own family?”

“ _ Betty! _ ” Martha raising her voice was shocking enough to distract Heather from the words swirling around in her head, creating fog she had to wade through. When Martha looked back at Heather with a look of compassion that, in that moment, made Heather feel guilty for even calling her a nickname, she felt herself relax.

“Whatever it is, you don’t need to tell us,” Martha said softly. “You may be mean, but I know you’re human too.”

Heather was pretty sure the corners of her eyes were wet, which was embarrassing, but she blinked any tears away before they could properly form.

“People don’t really like it when I act human,” she murmured. “Which is… why I did what I did.” Her leg was still bouncing. “If I was comfortable telling you, I would. But I’m not. I’m hardly comfortable telling myself.”  _ Even after everything I said to Fleming earlier, I still never told her I have PTSD, _ she thought.  _ That’s okay. She doesn’t deserve to know. _

“That’s okay. You’re not obliged to tell us,” Martha said, before glimpsing at Betty skeptically. “ _ Right, _ Betty?”

Betty looked back at her guiltily. “Right. Sorry,” she said to Heather. “I got carried away.”   


“It’s fine. You kind of hate me, so I don’t see why you’d care about my problems,” Heather replied with a shrug.

“I don’t  _ completely _ hate you,” Betty said. “I don’t  _ like _ you, but I know there’s something Veronica has to see in you, and I don’t know what the fuck it is other than looks, but it clearly makes them happy, so…”

That comment, though bittersweet, made Heather’s heart flutter, and the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“I know I’m being harsh, Heather,” Betty spoke again, her voice softer this time, “but please don’t interpret that as me being angry for the sake of it. I don’t  _ want _ to be angry, and I don’t  _ want _ to dislike you. I just… I could have been hurt, and I think in some ways I  _ am, _ because even with Heather taking the hit for all of us, I’m still getting some suspicious looks my way and so on. And while I  _ can _ handle it… I don’t want to  _ have _ to because you decided that mine and JD’s and whoever else’s safety wasn’t worth it.” She frowned and looked away. “I believe Veronica when they told me you have a nicer side to you, but I don’t think I can even  _ begin _ thinking about forgiving you until I see it for myself.”

“But if you believe Veronica, why do you need to see it first hand?” Martha asked her.

“Personal reasons, Martha. I know  _ you’re _ nice enough to give her another chance right away, but that’s just not how I work. I need to actually  _ see _ some reason to trust them, you know? I can’t just be friendly with  _ anyone. _ "

Heather huffed distantly. “What do you know, we have something in common.”

Betty shifted uncomfortably. “I just… it’s hard to see you as anything but the type of person I’ve been fighting against for years. I want to see you differently, but I  _ can’t. _ I’ll give you some credit, in that your apology was a lot better than I expected, but I just don’t know how to see you in a light that’ll let me sympathise with you.”

Heather frowned, slowly nodding in understanding, because she fully understood. They were both just so different, what with being in two of the most polar opposite cliques - she had to wonder how that made Veronica feel, being trapped between two completely different friendship groups, she wondered if perhaps that was a lot more pressure on her than she initially thought. She shouldn’t be thinking about her now though, not when Betty and Martha were clearly waiting for her to speak again, but Heather couldn’t think of the right thing to say in the moment. A thick silence fell on them all, one that made her shift uncomfortably in her seat, that is, until it was finally broken. Not by any of them though.

“Martha, sweetie, who was knocking before?” A new voice - an unfamiliar, yet strangely recognisable voice sounded from somewhere further down the hallway outside the room. She assumed it was recognisable because it was clearly a relative of Martha, as she could tell by the word choice, and yes, her voice was somewhat similar in a sense that it was incredibly polite. But there was something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“It’s okay, mom! It was just, um…” Martha looked back at Heather questioningly. “A… friend?”

“A visitor,” Betty said.

“Yeah, a visitor,” Martha said.

“Oh! Will they want dinner?” Footsteps drew closer to the room, until a woman that heavily resembled Martha in terms of figure and hairstyle, dressed in comfortable, loose clothing and smiling in an incredibly friendly way stepped into the room. Not only did she remind her of Martha, but she reminded her so much of… someone else she once. Someone else who would have had the same last name, and just so happened to look exactly like her…

_ Oh, how did I not put two and two together sooner? _ Heather internally yelled as she found herself trapped under the woman’s gaze.  _ Are you fucking kidding me? _

“Hello! I don’t think we’ve met!” Mrs Dunnstock chipped happily. Heather’s brow furrowed as she tried to think of what the hell to say.

“Are you okay, Heather?” she heard Martha ask. Pulling herself out of my thoughts, she nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She looked back to Mrs Dunnstock, Jesus Christ, it had been so long, and finally replied. “Hi.”

She saw a sense of recognition in her eyes, which made her anxious. She wasn’t exactly sure why she didn’t want to be recognised, maybe it was because she was basically a different person to her child self, but either way, when her eyes widened and a smile spread on her face, she was filled with dread. Before speaking, though, she saw her eyes flicker back to Martha, and she was sure she saw some form of conflict in her gaze, which confused her, but she had little time to think about as before she knew it, she heard the words,

“Heather, is it?” Mrs Dunnstock asked cheerfully, though Heather was  _ sure _ she heard an underlying sense of mischief in her tone. “I thought I recognised your face from somewhere!”

“Huh?” Betty looked up at her in confusion, while Heather shrunk into her shoulders as Mrs Dunnstock walked around her daughter’s couch and over to her. She felt her face heat up and she averted her gaze as she continued to speak.

“You were in my special needs class all those years ago! You had a lisp?”

“H- wh-  _ excuse _ me?” She whipped her head up with the intention of glaring at her, but couldn’t bring herself to, mainly because she couldn’t shake off the fact that this woman had been a mother figure to her so many years ago. “I don’t know what you-”

“Say, did you ever get that ADHD diagnosis? I spoke to your parents about your symptoms, but they didn’t seem convinced.”

“Wh… no? No? They never…  _ huh? _ ” She was completely and utterly flabbergasted by…  _ many _ things right now, but mainly from the fact that she was really saying all of this  _ in front of Martha and Betty. _ She would  _ never _ say such  _ embarrassing _ things in front of  _ anyone, _ and the fact that both Betty and Martha were staring at her in amazement and stifling some snickers was  _ exactly the reason why… _

...Oh, that’s what she was doing.

“I need the bathroom! Where’s your bathroom? Can I please use it?” she blurted out, her skin hot with embarrassment. Giggling slightly, Mrs Dunnstock replied,

“Up the stairs and to the left.

“ _ Thanks. _ ”

She ran out of the room to escape the ridicule, and it was then that she realised that she wasn’t actually lying, and that she did need the bathroom. Chugging a slushie will do that to you.

She ran up the stairs and found that the corridor was fucking  _ tiny, _ with doors pressed close together, closer than she would ever feel comfortable with if it were her and her parents living here. She didn’t even reside in the same  _ hallway _ as her parents. She found the bathroom and did her business, then slowly made her way back downstairs. She didn’t step back into the living room though, as she heard talking from inside the room.

“...I mean, good to know that she definitely wouldn’t have always been considered popular,” she heard Betty say. “But I still don’t know, Martha. I want to give her a second chance, but how do I know she won’t take it and then step all over it? You know it’s hard for me to trust people, especially after I literally got bullied out of my old school.”

“I know, and I think if the bullying was aimed at you instead of Heather, maybe even I would be more skeptical,” Martha murmured. “Besides, this isn’t my apology to accept. It’s ultimately up to you. I guess… I’m just willing to look past a fair share of bad things she’s done. I don’t meet many nice people in high school - I think it brings out the worst in us.”

“I’m included in that,” Betty confessed. “I know I’m not nice either. It’s just all a defense mechanism to protect myself and my friends though, you know?”

Heather could definitely resonate with that.

“I know… granted, I don’t know if giving people tattoos when they’re intoxicated falls under that category.”

“Well, no, it doesn’t. I was just feeling vengeful that night.” A pause. “I’m not pulling that again, though. I feel bad about giving Veronica a tattoo.”

“In fairness, you were drunk at that point as well.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t bring the pen with me.” A sigh. “We’re getting off track. Martha, what do I do?”

“I… don’t know.”

Heather bit her lip.  _ Me neither. _

Instead of returning, however, she looked further down the corridor where she heard a noise. She sauntered further down, and saw that the back door had been opened. Curiously she inspected why it had been opened, and outside on the patio, she saw Mrs Dunnstock sitting at a round wooden table, facing her expectantly, with the chair opposite her pulled out. She frowned disdainfully, but still walked over and sat down.

“Mind telling me what  _ that _ was all about?” Heather sneered, crossing her arms and folding one leg over the other. Mrs Dunnstock looked at her kindly, yet guiltily.

“I’m generally not a vengeful person, Heather, but my daughter does come first.” She put down a mug of what looked like hot chocolate onto the table. She wished she had some - it smelled good. “But think of it less as me making fun of you and more of a slight taste of your own medicine. And I do mean slight taste - me letting it slip you had a lisp when you were younger is very tame compared to shaming someone for her weight, you know. Especially since I know Betty and Martha won’t view any of that as a bad thing.”

Heather felt herself burn with shame, and her tense muscles relaxed.

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

She rolled her eyes. “I  _ know. _ Just… now they know about  _ me. _ ” She looked up at her, confused. “Something even  _ I _ didn’t know about. ADHD? Me? Seriously?” She could have laughed at the idea, while Mrs Dunnstock shrugged.

“Well, Heather, it sounds like it’s scary to have something so personal revealed to other people.”

Heather stared at her blankly.

“That’s brutal.”

“Is it?”

“...Maybe not to the same extent. But  _ still. _ ”

“Betty and Martha aren’t going to relentlessly bully you for  _ maybe _ having ADHD, Heather.”   


“You’re right, because I  _ don’t _ have ADHD,” she grunted. “And… yeah, they wouldn’t anyway.” She let out a long sigh. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

“Yes,” Mrs Dunnstock replied. “I’m assuming you’re here to apologise, because from the sounds of it, Betty isn’t a big fan of you.”

“...How much do you know, exactly?”

“I’m pretty sure I know the full story.”

“Oh.” Somehow that was even more shameful. “You must be really disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” She tilted her head curiously. “Why?”

Heather shrugged, resting her cheek on her hand. “I dunno, last time you saw me you probably thought I was really nice. I don’t think I did anything messed up as a kid, other than put insects in people’s hair.”

“You’ve definitely changed a lot,” Mrs Dunnstock said. “But I’m not disappointed.”

“How come? You clearly know I bullied your daughter.” She bitterly stared off into the distance.

“Well, yes, and I think that is something you definitely need to work on, but I’m assuming that’s why you’re here.”

“I… yeah.” She bit her lip. “The thing is, I knew right from the start that saying sorry wouldn’t be enough. I’ve said all that there needs to be said, and still Betty doesn’t trust me. Not that I blame her.” She shook her head. “What am I doing? I shouldn’t be dumping my problems onto you, I haven’t seen you in  _ years. _ ” She laughed at the absurdity of it all. “To think, you were the only teacher who ever listened to my problems, and in return I spent years picking on your daughter. What a great way to say thanks, huh?”

“You’re still a child, I’m not going to lecture you about something you’ve clearly already acknowledged is wrong,” Mrs Dunnstock replied. “You want to change it, don’t you?”

“I do… I just don’t know how,” she admitted. “I’ve been so cruel for years, it’s all I know how to be. I can’t change that overnight, and even if that’s possible, I…” She dryly swallowed. “I guess it’s a  _ little _ intimidating to picture myself being  _ nicer. _ I mean, no offense, but Martha’s incredibly nice, and look how the school treats her.”

“You mean, including yourself?”

“I-” She clamped her mouth shut. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

“But doesn’t it make you feel awful? Like I said, her experiences are like what you just went through, except so much worse.”

“That’s the thing! I’ve learned to become apathetic over the years, how am I meant to be anything else? I don’t think there’s a shred of selflessness in me at this point - why is being nice so  _ hard _ for me?” She dragged her fingers through her hair in frustration. “If I can’t be nice, how am I meant to fix anything?”

“Heather,” Mrs Dunnstock’s soft voice calmed her like a lullaby, not that she had ever been sung a lullaby, but she imagined that that was probably what it was like. “I know that’s not true. Yes, you have done mean things, but you’re not heartless. I know you have it in you to not just be nice, but to be  _ wonderful. _ You were the only child to approach Heather McNamara when everyone else thought she was peculiar, and even after you realised they thought that, you stayed because of a genuine love for her.” She smiled warmly. “And while both times she’s spoken to me, she’s vented about you, I’ll admit, I can tell she is full of that same love for you too - there’s a reason for that, Heather. You’re clearly a wonderful person at heart, you just need to let more people see it.” Somehow, her voice grew even softer, landing on her ears like feathers brushing her skin. “Kind people are the bravest of them all, because they remain kind no matter how much they get hurt.”

Heather felt a strong emotion pulling at her heart. “Am I brave enough?”

“That’s for you to decide,” Mrs Dunnstock cooed. “Do you want to be brave and be someone wonderful, no matter how much it may hurt, or do you want to be cruel in hopes you’ll make it out alive? I know you have a choice, Heather. I’ve seen you do the former, even if it was many years ago. You’re still that same person.”

Heather’s gaze dropped to her fidgeting hands that rested on her lap as she truly considered her words.

“Actually, I don’t have a choice,” she murmured. “Because I tried the last thing, and I don’t think I’m making it out alive.” She bit her lip worrisomely. “I thought I was, and in some ways I really was, but I didn’t realise how much I was tearing my relationships apart.” She usually felt pathetic, being in such a vulnerable position, but something about the person listening to her being someone she could just… trust, with little to no issue… she felt at peace. Like this was something she had needed to do for a long time. “What I thought was a perfect image for myself ended up being what hurt the few people I care about, and not only that, but they got sick of it. They left me, and now I’m scared I’ll have no one by the year, and I won’t even be able to be angry about it, because I probably deserve it.” Her shoulders slumped. “Of course I hope to fix all of this so that doesn’t happen… but even that sounds selfish.”

“It’s not selfish to want things to go your way, Heather,” Mrs Dunnstock said. “What is selfish is  _ doing _ things for your own gain and no one else’s. Is that what you’re doing?”

“Well, no. I  _ want _ to fix this, I just don’t know what the next step is after this.”

“Do you need to know the next step?”

“I…” She bit her tongue as she thought about it. Her mind returned to Heather Duke again; what did she do after apologising, exactly?

_ I… I didn’t do anything, _ she realised.  _ I didn’t  _ know _ I was supposed to do anything, so I didn’t. Whatever I did, I did it right, because I wanted to change; I didn’t force myself to do anything. I was just a friend, and that’s it . _

“No, I don’t,” she said. “I just have to trust I’ll do the right thing, I guess.”

Mrs Dunnstock nodded, smiling proudly. It filled Heather with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I hope you know this is the first good piece of advice an adult has given me in a long time,” Heather said.

“I didn’t really give you any advice, you figured that part out yourself.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing.”

She just chuckled in response. “You got me there.” She leaned forward. “But me sitting my old special needs students down to offer them life advice aside, how have you been? Honestly, it’s been so long, and I’ve heard a lot about you from Heather - it feels surreal seeing you again. You’ve grown so much!”

“Oh, uh, thanks?” Heather wasn’t entirely sure how to react to adults praising her mere existence. “Um, my life is pretty rough right now I suppose, but right now I’m feeling okay.” She squinted. “Though, the more I think about it, can we go back to the ADHD thing? Were you just fucking with me?”

“Well, no, I wasn’t,” she replied. “I actually did talk to your parents about getting a diagnosis, but they thought the idea was ludicrous.”

“I feel like I should agree with them, but the thought of agreeing with my parents on anything disturbs me more than the idea of having ADHD.” She clicked her tongue. “Besides, Mac has it, so…” She shook her head. “But I’m nothing like Mac! How do  _ I _ have it?”

“Well, from what I remember, as a child you weren’t very attentive in class,” Mrs Dunnstock replied. “At first I thought it was because your dyslexia made it difficult for you to understand what was being said, but then I realised you just had a really short attention span.”

Heather opened her mouth to argue, but stopped herself in realising,

“You mean, not everyone zones out of class all the time?”

“No, Heather. Zoning out is definitely normal, but you did it excessively. It wasn’t just zoning out though - you would  _ look _ for things to distract yourself with. Even just chewing things or clicking your pen was more entertaining to you than doing math.”

“...Math is objectively awful..”

“My point is, Heather, ADHD is caused by you not having enough dopamine to focus on typically ‘boring’ things, so you feel unmotivated to do it, significantly more than other people. That also means you’ll find it incredibly difficult to start tasks you know won’t give you that dopamine rush, so procrastinating until the very last moment is common. It’s also why people with ADHD aren’t affected by caffeine the same. That extra dopamine will allow them to focus more rather than become unfocused.”

Heather shrank a little in her seat, trying not to think of all those times she either left her homework until last minute, or couldn’t bring herself to do it at all.

“Everyone procrastinates.” She knew that wasn’t true; Duke tended to finish her work  _ days _ before it was due. But she was kind of a nerd and had an obsession with staying organised, so that made sense. However, that doesn’t change the fact that… “But I have used Mac’s caffeine pills to stay focused in class… a lot.”

“You’re right in that people who don’t have ADHD may do these things,” Mrs Dunnstock said. “But when you show several of those symptoms at once… it might mean something.”

Heather huffed dismissively. “I’ll  _ look into it, _ I guess.”

“I think that’s a great idea! Don’t let it pile onto whatever is bothering you though.”

“Hm?”

“You said before your life was rough right now,” she said with a concerned gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, everything’s-” She stopped herself from finishing what was essentially an instinctive reply, and found it feeling too disingenuous to say that everything is fine. “Well, everything’s a mess, so I’m thinking that I should probably go to therapy and see if that helps, not that I want to go to therapy.”

Mrs Dunnstock stared at her, even more concerned. “Whatever for? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, some pretty messed up shit,” Heather said with a shrug. “It’s… why I did what I did. As in, why I almost outed Betty and JD, I mean.”

“Hm?”   


“Our dumbass counsellor thought it was a good idea to have a sexual harassment awareness week, and put me on TV to represent it.” She drummed her hands against the table to distract herself from what was probably a very horrified look. “I’ll let you figure out why that was so hard for me and why I wanted to use some sort of diversion.”

There was a brief moment of silence   


“Oh my God, hun, are you  _ okay? _ ” A horrified look spread on her face and Heather suddenly regretted implying anything - not for the usual reason of fearing people knowing about her more messy side, but because she genuinely felt bad for making her worry.

“I mean, I will be. I’m on my way there, I imagine.” She shrugged, trying to brush it off, only to find herself being nudged off her chair right after Mrs Dunnstock stood up. “Um, what are you-”

“Kitchen! Now!”

“Okay?”

She followed her to the kitchen, immediately hit with a strong, mouth-watering smell of what she could tell was some form of meat. She guessed it was from the oven, as when she walked past it she could feel the heat radiating from it. She turned her attention back to Mrs Dunnstock when she heard some moving around of mugs in a cabinet.

“Do you like hot chocolate, dear?”

“Um, yeah, I do-”

“Toppings? Whipped cream? Marshmallows?”

Heather blinked as she watched her put several scoops of cocoa powder into a mug. “Oh, you don’t have to-”

“This is to prevent me from stabbing a man,” she told her bluntly. “And also, you need some sort of treat, even if it doesn’t make anything much better.”

Heather snickered, her explanation making her smile much more than her parents ever had after she’d told them what happened in even more detail.

“What do you  _ mean _ your parents didn’t do this much?” Oh, had she said something along those lines out loud? Whoops. “Heather, that’s awful. Surely you needed loads of comfort?”

She shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“It  _ shouldn’t _ be what it is.” She mixed some almond milk into her drink before putting it into the microwave - good, she didn’t use hot water like she’d seen Heather Duke do sometimes, the fucking heathen.

“I know,” she said sadly, biting the inside of her cheek. Mrs Dunnstock had been right about this not doing much to fix anything, and she imagined that though she was good with kids with special needs, dealing with teenage sexual trauma wasn’t really her forte, but that was fine. She still found comfort in an act of kindness from an adult, someone showing that they care, that they know what happened was fucked up. She’d yet to have an adult show that to her, and she hadn’t realised how much she needed it. “Thanks anyway, Mrs Dunnstock. I appreciate it.”

“You can just call me Judy - I’m not your teacher anymore.” The microwave pinged and she took out the mug. Heather told her what toppings she wanted, and she ended up getting a mountain of whipped cream, mini marshmallows and sprinkles. The toppings were a lot, so she grabbed a teaspoon to eat it with, or it would have fallen off.

“I’ve basically stolen you from Betty and Martha though,” Judy said. “Are you sure you’re okay, hun?”

“Honestly, I’m fine,” Heather replied before taking a sip of hot chocolate and, oh, hot chocolate made with almond milk was  _ good. _ “I didn’t come here to vent about myself, I’m trying to be a nice person. Or,  _ nicer. _ ” Quite frankly, she wasn’t sure if she could picture herself as a “nice” person. Even as a child she was a troublemaker. “Though, you gave me some good advice, so it’s not like this conversation was pointless.”

“I’m glad I could help.” She paused for a moment. “And, well, I might be able to help a bit more.”

“Hm?”

“My wife - she has similar qualifications to me, only she works with teens. You said you were thinking about therapy, didn’t you?”

Heather blinked at her. “I, yes?” She blinked again. “You have a wife?”

“I can see if she deals with issues such as your own,” she suggested. “If that’s what you’d want, that is. You don’t have to.”

“Oh.” Heather wasn’t sure what to say. It was true that she knew she probably needed therapy, and that she should probably go for it, but now that the offer was on the table, suddenly it was incredibly intimidating, and the thought of it happening so soon made her feel ill. “I… um…”

“It can be whenever you’re ready, you know.”

Heather slowly nodded. “That… yeah. I’ll consider it, just…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know, it’s a bit soon.”

“That’s alright. Just let me know.”

“I will.” She made her way back to the door. “Thanks. For everything.”  _ Even the seed you’ve planted in my head about ADHD. _

“It’s no problem.” She smiled at her warmly. “Good luck, dear!”

She nodded and turned back around, not walking back to the front room too quickly with a hot drink in her hands. She pushed the door open wider with her body and was met with two pairs of eyes landing on her. She forgot what to do next.

“Why do you have hot chocolate?” Betty asked, eyeing her drink. “Hey, why does  _ she _ get hot chocolate and we don’t? This is a travesty.”

“I accidentally told Martha’s mom about my trauma,” Heather replied. “So she made me hot chocolate to make me feel better.”

“Oh, sorry, giving people treats is her first response whenever someone is sad,” Martha said. “Though, are you alright?”

“I wasn’t even sad, so yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “Anyway, sorry I was gone so long, I need to finish my apology.”

“I thought you finished it,” Betty said.

“Yeah, well, turns out there’s a lot more to say.” She walked over to the couch and sat down, briefly ran over the list of things she needed to say in her head, before taking a deep breath and looking at them both as sincerely as she could.

“I don’t know if I’ve made it clear enough, but you know I’m not actually here to patch things up with Veronica, right?”

Betty looked at her curiously. In the time that she was gone, all animosity seemed to evaporate, and she was now a lot less intimidating to hold eye contact with.

“Go on,” she prompted.

“There’s… there’s a  _ lot _ that I could use to excuse my actions, but I don’t wanna do that, because I know it doesn’t matter to you how hurt I am, all that matters it that I hurt  _ you _ and that I need to do whatever it takes to make it up to you, and if that ends up not being enough for you to forgive me, then so be it, I just want to fix the mess that I made and hope for the best. Whatever my reasons were for, you know, almost outing you as trans, it doesn’t matter. I’m notorious for fucking people over for my own gain, and I don’t wanna do that anymore, so… yeah. This is me apologising. I’m not sure what else to say.” She looked back and forth between them, and it was then she realised that there  _ was _ actually more to say. A lot more. “No, scratch that, I should actually be killing two birds with one stone. I’m sorry to you too.” She gestured to Martha, and somehow this was even  _ harder _ to say, perhaps because it had been her norm for so long. “I didn’t put you at risk with my recent stunt, but I’ve been a general bitch to you for years, and, um… I tried distancing Veronica from you as well, and… yeah. Sorry, I don’t even have an excuse, I’m just an asshole.”

Martha seemed taken aback by her apology, even if it was nothing amazing. It was pretty piss-poor, actually, but Heather knew she wouldn’t be good at this. She just wasn’t good with words. Though, she  _ was _ trying to be better, so maybe she should improve on that, and Judy had given her a ‘taste of her own medicine’ before to help her out with empathy and shit, so...

“I’m sorry for making fun of your weight and your looks and for constantly trying to embarrass you in front of the whole school. You don’t deserve it - you’re clearly a very nice person, you even took pity on me.” She chewed the insides of her mouth as she tried to think of more to say. “You’re also very pretty, and I do mean that. I know that probably means nothing next to all the things I’ve said in the past, but it’s not like anything I say is true, I’m just trying to cater to the popular crowd.” She glanced down at her own exposed stomach. “See, even I’m not completely thin, contrary to popular belief, and I shouldn’t perpetuate the whole idea about skinny equaling beauty. Especially when-” She cut herself off, choosing her words carefully. “Especially when I know someone who struggles with their… body image… oh.” The realisation made her stomach sink into a pool of regret. “Oh shit.”

“I… are you okay?” Martha asked.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll… apologise to them later.” She dragged her attention back to them. “But right now I need to focus on both of you, and I’ll be honest, I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know what I can do to fix anything, I don’t know if I  _ can _ fix anything, but I wanna at least try? Just… if you think of anything, let me know, I guess.” She sheepishly sipped her drink, which helped calm her somehow. “I don’t know. I think that’s all there is to say.”

Both Martha and Betty glanced at each other, as if having a silent debate amongst themselves about whether they should consider anything she’d say or if they should just kick her out of the house and never look her way again. She’d understand if they chose the latter, but she was praying to whatever divine being may be out there that they’d pick the former.

“Well… I really appreciate hearing all of that from you, Heather. At least, about me,” Martha began. “You’re right in that I don’t know if it’ll take away everything I’ve always been told, but… I can accept your apology. I’d be happy to give you another chance”

“Huh?” She stared at her in disbelief. “Just like that?”

“Well, yeah. Why, was I not supposed to?”

“I mean, you  _ can, _ but it was just so quick.”

“I’m kinda with Heather on this one,” Betty said. “Martha, you’re really giving her a second chance just like that?”

“Of course. She’s said sorry, and it sounded genuine enough. She knows what she’s done wrong, what’s the point in drilling it in further? I trust her to change!”

“No offense, but why?” Heather asked, arching a brow. “You know who you’re talking about, right?”

Betty pointed to her as to agree with what she was saying.

“I know, but it’s like Betty said before, there’s a side of you that Veronica fell in love with, as well as Heather, and I’m sure whatever it is, it’s strong enough to let you become a better person.” She smiled earnestly at her. “I know things are rocky between us, Heather, but I would rather build bridges than burn them.”

“‘Rocky’ is an understatement,” Heather grumbled. “But… thanks? I didn’t expect you to accept my apology so quickly.”

“It’s not a problem. I just prefer to start fresh rather than keep wading through the dirt, you know?” She straightened herself up. “Besides… you’re not the only one who needs to apologise.”

“I’m not?”

A brief silence fell on them, with Martha patiently waiting for something, and when she side-glimpsed at the girl next to her, Heather realised she was waiting for Betty, who was suddenly avoiding looking at Heather, up until Martha’s elbow hit her in the arm. “Ow!” She frowned and rubbed where she was nudged, while Martha folded her arms and stared at her expectantly.

“Betty, don’t you have something to say?”

Betty winced, before looking back to Heather in defeat.

“ _ I’m _ sorry about giving you a tattoo,” she grumbled. “Especially as it is the third worst type of tattoo in existence.”

“Third worst?” Heather asked.

“Second being ‘live, laugh, love’ and first being a spouse’s name.” She gritted her teeth out of shame. “I promise, had I been sober, I would have  _ never _ given you or Veronica matching tattoos.” She paused. “But it wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t giving out tattoos in the first place, so I don’t have an excuse either.”

Heather tilted her head curiously. She hadn’t expected her to actually apologise for… that.

“Why were you even doing tattoos anyway?” she asked.

“Because… um…” She looked away sheepishly, only to be prompted by Martha staring at her accusingly. “Well, the type of people who go to your parties are the type of people who bully me or my friends - and I was right, I can surprisingly recognise football players and cheerleaders without their vest tops. So I just figured… what’s a little revenge by unsuspectingly giving them tattoos while they’re intoxicated?”

“Betty that’s  _ horrible, _ ” Martha chided.

“I  _ knew _ that, but I didn’t care!” Betty exclaimed. “I never claimed to be morally pure like you, you know. I just wanted them to wake up with pure fear the next morning!”

“ _ That doesn’t make it any better! _ ”

While Betty and Martha argued amongst themselves, Heather couldn’t help but snicker at the whole ordeal. Now that Betty’s intentions were revealed, she felt oddly better, even if her intentions were certainly worse than she initially thought. Mainly because that whole scheme was, to her, the  _ perfect _ amount of evil.

“I didn’t give anyone something  _ awful, _ I made sure it was a good tattoo. I’m not so horrid as to permanently draw a dick into someone’s arm!” Betty protested.

“Well there’s  _ that _ at least,” Martha shot back sarcastically. It was then that Heather burst out laughing.

“What are you laughing at?” Betty asked, confused.

“Nothing. Just, somehow hearing that you were giving people tattoos as  _ revenge _ makes me feel a lot better.” She held back more urges to laugh. “Not saying you’re as bad as me, but I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s done fucked up things to other students for a laugh.” Cheers to that, she took a sip of her hot chocolate.

Betty disgruntledly folded her arms. “Let’s just call it  _ even. _ You almost outed me, I gave you a matching tattoo of your girlfriend of… how long had you been dating at that point?”

“Hmm… less than a month.”

“Oh God that’s even worse.”

“At least I don’t have to look at it.” Heather shrugged.

“Wait, where is it?” Martha asked. Clicking her tongue, Heather placed her hot chocolate on the coffee table, stood up and turned around and lifted her cardigan. “ _ Oh. _ ” A pause. “It does actually look nice on you though, if that makes it any better.”

“It’s also not as bad as I thought it would be,” Betty said. “Because, again, I was drunk.”

“I am impressed by that,” Heather commented, sitting back down. “And you’re right; it’s not as bad as  _ name _ tattoos.”

“Exactly. It could be worse.” Betty pursed her lips. “But still, I am sorry. Shouldn’t have done it.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Martha patted Betty on the head, causing her face to flush slightly which Heather found amusing. She didn’t realise the hardened girl could ever go soft, but she guessed that someone as sweet as Martha would be able to do it.

“I haven’t done anything to Heather, have I? I’ve already apologised to two of them, please don’t make it three.”

“I don’t think you have, no.”

“Two of them?” Heather asked curiously. Betty sighed.

“Heather Duke,” she said. “I was kinda rotten to her - turns out I had no good reason to be.”

“Oh yeah, you were all friends back in the day, right?” Heather questioned, grabbing her drink again. “Sorry for stealing her, but in fairness, she was all alone in middle school, also she completes the name trio so I’d like to keep her.”

“Yeah, I know what happened now so I’m not bothered anymore.” She rested her arms along the back of the sofa, one of them just behind Martha. “I’m pretty sure we’re chill now. She’s kinda the new boss of the school since you left, and it’s pretty awesome how she’s handling it, all things considered.”

Hearing that kind of hurt, and she knew that Heather would have never worded it like that due to knowing about her obsession with having control over the school, but she pushed the thought aside. She didn’t know where she stood on the food chain yet, but she would soon enough. She’d find out when the time came.

“Yeah… she’s pretty great,” she murmured wistfully, the change in her voice catching Betty’s attention.

“Say… I’m not actually sure, all four of you are dating each other, right?” Betty asked.

“Oh, no. Not really.” She frowned. “I wasn’t dating Heather Duke; I kinda fucked up our relationship a lot, so I didn’t think dating her was a possibility.”

Her strange wording was picked up by both of them.

“But…  _ do _ you want to?” Martha asked. “If you don’t mind me asking! I’m just being nosy.”

“Oh, um…” She internally debated the pros and cons of telling them, and realised that there were in fact no cons at all. They already knew she was gay, and it’s not like they could tell Duke either, because Duke already knew about her feelings. “Yeah, I’ve had a crush on her for a little while.” She swirled the spoon around her mug. “And the other night I realised she liked me back.”

Martha gasped excitedly. “Wait, so you’re dating?”

“Uh, no.” Heather looked away. “It would be too awkward for her to be dating Veronica and Heather as well as their… ex? I think I’m their ex.” She shrugged. “Either way, you get me. It’s too awkward for her, I’m not gonna put her through that.”

“Oh,” Betty frowned. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

A heavy silence fell on them, which was yet again broken by footsteps just outside. In walked Judy again, holding two trays.

“Dinner’s ready!” she announced.

“Oh, um, you didn’t have to make me-” Heather tried to protest, but when the plate was placed close to her on the coffee table, she realised there was no point, seeing as the food was already made. “Uh, thanks, I guess.” Again, adults being nice to her was strange. It was always easier to dismiss their attempts at kindness - that’s what she’d always done with Veronica’s parents. But she couldn’t bring herself to do that with Judy.

“Condiments are here.” Judy placed a rack of sauces, salt, and pepper that had been handing off her pinky finger onto the table. “Enjoy, girls!” “Thanks, Judy!” Betty chimed.

“Thanks, mom!” Martha said.

“Yeah, what they said? Thanks.”

Judy left them alone to eat, and silence set on them again. This time it was more justifiable, as Betty and Martha’s mouths were full of their meal, which was burgers with a side of fries, by the way. There was a knife and fork on her tray, which she grabbed, and after adding some ketchup to her burger, she began to slice. That was when Betty laughed, almost spitting out her food. She whipped her gaze towards her,

“What?”

“You’re eating a burger with  _ a knife and fork! _ ” She took a moment to swallow what was left in her mouth, while Heather just stared at her, confused.

“How am I  _ meant _ to eat it?”

“With your  _ hands? _ ” Betty stared at her in bewilderment. “Have you never eaten a burger before?”

“ _ Of course I have, _ ” she snapped, only to actually think about it for longer than a few seconds. “I mean, I’m sure my parents took me to McDonalds at some point, right?”

“Oh God, you’ve never eaten fast food?” Betty stared at her in horror. “This is worse than I thought.”

“I  _ have _ eaten fast food!” she exclaimed. “Just, uh, all of it was sweet things, from what I remember.”

“ _ Why. _ ”

“I dunno, my parents always described it as gross peasant food!”

“Rich people have such sad lives.” Betty abandoned her fries and picked up her burger. “Trust me, it is  _ way _ better with your hands.”

“Don’t you get messy?”

“Yeah.” With that, Betty took a bite, and in fairness, it did seem a lot more convenient, so she dropped her knife and fork and awkwardly picked it up. She was sure the sauce was be pushed out through the other side as soon as she took a bite, but hey, mess never used to bother her until she got yelled at for constantly making it, but right now she was in a household that clearly didn’t care about any of that, so fuck it, so what if sauce got on her fingers. She used to swim in dirt for fun.

“See, that’s way easier,” Betty said after Heather took a bite. Heather had to agree, and she wondered why she never put it together that a burger was just a warm sandwich, so of  _ course _ you eat it with your hands. She hummed in acknowledgement and continued to eat, secretly enjoying how flavourful the food was compared to how she remembered her own mother’s cooking to be back when she actually made food for her. They were quiet for a long time, as if all too entranced by having well made food, until Betty, close to finishing her food, spoke up.

“Okay, I have to ask, and you don’t have to answer,” she said, “but what actually is your sexuality?”

Heather looked up at her. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

Heather froze. It was weird that she had not thought about her sexuality for  _ ages, _ not since JD offhandedly asked her all those weeks ago, especially considering the fact that she had been crushing on three different girls. You’d think it would be more on her mind, but it simply hadn’t, because she simply didn’t care enough. She was doing whatever and was attracted to whoever, she never thought about it too much. She supposed she could go so far to call herself bisexual like Veronica, but she just hadn’t gone so far as to label herself.

“I… don’t really think about it too much?” She shrugged. “At this point I don’t really care who I’m attracted to, I’m not sure if I have a preference.” She thoughtfully hummed, actually thinking about it for once in her life. “I know I like girls, but I know I like guys too. I mean, men have given me a lot of trauma, but they’re still hot.”

“That’s concerning,” Betty said, frowning at her. Heather shrugged.

“Point being, I’ll date whoever I want.”

Betty seemed slightly disappointed. “So… your not a lesbian?”

She raised a brow. “No? Why are you-”

“She made a bet with JD,” Martha stated. “Betty betted that you were a lesbian, JD betted that you were pansexual.”

_ What the fuck is pansexual? _ “You made a  _ bet? _ ”

“...Maybe.”

“With  _ just _ me?”

“Well, we would have done the same with Heather, but we both agreed she was a lesbian, and we ended up being right anyway. And we didn’t do it with Heather because I was still holding a grudge towards her at the time, so… yeah.”

“I’m sorry for your loss of… however much you bet.”   


“Twenty dollars.”

“Well, then again, doesn’t mean JD won, because I don’t know what  _ pansexual _ is.” She made air quotes when saying it.

“Oh!” Martha raised her hand. “It’s like bisexuality, but pansexual people tend to have no preference in gender. They overlap a lot, it just depends on the person’s preference for labels, as well as their preferences in gender. Since, you know, bisexuals can have a leaning to one gender over the other. Not all the time, but it happens!”

Heather blinked at her, every single word of her explanation resonating with her in some way. Like she had said, she didn’t care who she was attracted to at this point, she just focused on the person and tossed whatever gender they were out the window. In fact… the more she thought about it, she  _ always _ had. As much as she hated to think about it, she could never forget the first time she found a boy cute in seventh grade, only to be ridiculed when people pointed out that the boy was a girl. That hadn’t been the worst part of it, nor was it the dyke rumours that followed for far too long. It was the fact that her opinion at no point changed about the girl being attractive, a fact she hadn’t even shared with Mac at the time. It felt like it was proving everyone  _ right _ about her.

Now, though? She could actually  _ think _ about it, figure out an aspect about herself that she’d buried for so long without the worry of proving a bunch of homophobic assholes right, because who cares if they’re right?

“Wait, how do  _ you _ know all of that?” Betty broke her out of her thoughts, and she saw her looking at Martha with confusion.

“Oh, um, I’ve been… reading up on it a lot?” Martha shrugged nonchalantly.

“How come?”

“Lately I figured it sounded a lot like me.”

Betty picked a very unfortunate time to put a couple of fries in her mouth, because she immediately began to splutter as soon as Martha said that.

“Wh- _ wha? _ ” She took a moment to swallow her food. “You’re not  _ straight? _ ”

There was something about her tone that seemed so  _ off _ from her usual demeanor, it was honestly sort of fascinating, so she kept observing.

“No, I’m not,” Martha said. “Did you think I was?”

“I- I just assumed that- because you’ve never liked anyone other than Ram, so-” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know, you just didn’t tell me!”

“Was I… meant to?” Martha just looked confused, but Heather had the advantage of having an outsider’s point of view. So she could definitely tell  _ something _ was going on, and it was most certainly entertaining.

“I mean, you never  _ had _ to or anything, I just- I would’ve liked to know?”

“Why…?”

“Just, um, it would have been, uh, useful?” Her cheeks were growing darker and her usual well enunciated words were coming out as nervous stutters, and all of it was enough for Heather to figure out what was happening. She picked up her drink and sipped it in hopes it would hide the smirk on her mouth.

“Useful?” Martha echoed, still completely oblivious.

“I mean- just in a sense that, I like knowing so I don’t feel alone?” She looked away, embarrassed. “As in, I like knowing who else is gay?”

“Right.” Martha slowly nodded, still sounding uncertain. “Well, um, I’ll just go take these plates out and go to the bathroom - I’ll be right back.” She gathered up everyone’s dishes, including Heather’s mug since she finished gulping her drink down just in time. As soon as she left, Heather turned to Betty with a grin, seeing that she was still flustered. She seemed too lost in her own thoughts to notice Heather stand up and sit herself down next to her, until the couch bounced under her and caught her off guard.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Heather questioned bluntly. Betty blinked at her, befuddled.

“Huh?”

“You and Martha.” She leaned forward and smirked. “There’s something going on.”

Betty seemed both confused and disturbed by her sitting so close and asking such a personal question, but Heather didn’t particularly care, she was already too invested in whatever was going on to back down.

“N-nothing?” Betty replied, to which Heather rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“ _ Please. _ I’ve never seen someone fumble with their words that badly since me trying to deny my feelings for Heather Duke.”

“Is that a lot?”

“My lisp came back.”

“Oh.” Betty’s face went darker and sank into her hands. “Do I really make it that obvious?”

“Yes. It’s a wonder why she hasn’t noticed if that’s how you always act.”

“I mean… she’s not really used to people crushing on  _ her. _ People asking you out as a joke will do that to someone’s confidence.”

“Oh…” Heather winced. “Well, regardless, now you know she likes girls, so you have a chance.” She patted her on the shoulder, which she could thankfully do due to her not wearing that spiky fucking jacket she always wore. “Congrats.”

“I don’t know that!” Betty exclaimed. “Just because she apparently likes girls now doesn’t mean she likes  _ me. _ ”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“ _ What? _ ”

“Ask her if she likes you.” Heather shrugged. “Seems like the easiest option to me.”

Betty stared at her as if she’d suggested cutting out her heart and gifting it to her.

“God, you’re as bad as Veronica,” Heather muttered. “What’s wrong with telling her?”

“I’ve been her friend since kindergarten - since ‘diapers’ as Veronica puts it, but that’s weird, so I don’t say that. I don’t want to ruin all of that by confessing anything.”

Heather rubbed her temples. “Why the hell would that happen?”

“Um… it would make it awkward?”

Sighing, Heather straightened herself up. “Listen, I relate, I felt the same about Mac since I’ve been her friend since first grade. Liking your childhood friend is  _ weird _ because you’re so used to just having a friendship with them, but also, friendships that last that long tend to be real tough and all, so why would telling them you like them romantically change anything?”

“That’s very reductionist.”

“Is it?” She narrowed her gaze. “How long have you been crushing?”

Betty bit the inside of her cheek sheepishly. “Since we started talking again.”

“How long is  _ that? _ ”

“Since October.”

“Do you really wanna keep living like this?” Heather raised a brow. “I only lasted a couple of weeks crushing on Mac, can’t imagine how you’re holding up.”

Betty looked at her skeptically.

“I’m being serious. If you two are such good friends, you seriously think admitting some feelings is gonna do anything to you?” She laughed. “I’ve done way worse to my friends and my friendships survived. Well, until now.” She grimaced, but shook the thought away. “Point being, even if nothing’s reciprocated, it won’t ruin anything. Might make things a little awkward, sure, but that’ll pass. Everything does.”

Betty shot her a weird look. “Why is Heather Chandler giving me legitimate good advice? I’m kind of scared.”

“Jesus, you’re just like Veronica, except worse because Veronica still managed to get three girlfriends.”

“I let you in here so you’d apologise, not burn me.”

“Look, if it makes you feel better, Veronica only dated Heather Duke after taking my advice.” She patted her on the head and smiled reassuringly. “I’m just surprised you’re more of a disaster than Veronica, since you actually have confidence and all.”

Betty shrugged. “I haven’t ever dated anyone.”

Heather’s brows raised. “Really?”   


“No. I’ve fooled around a couple of times, but I’ve never dated anyone. Other than a few boys here and there out of heteronormative obligation, but that’s it.” Betty eyed her up and down. “Don’t look at me like that. Not everyone is as conventionally attractive as you. I don’t constantly get everyone drooling over me.”

“Really? Because it’s very handy,” Heather said. “Only sometimes though. Otherwise it’s annoying.”

“I suppose having a load of boys gushing over me would be pretty annoying, considering I’m a lesbian.” She huffed. “But that also means never having anyone gush about me if they wanted to without the risk of being called a dyke.”

Heather snorted. “Don’t I know it.”

Betty raised a brow skeptically. “Do you?”

“Well… yeah.” She scratched the back of her neck, still finding it weird that there was so little hair in the way. “I suppose Veronica wasn’t the first girl I was ever interested in-”   


“Oh,  _ do _ tell.” Betty rested her chin on her hand and looked at her with intrigue.

“...Back in middle school, there was this boy who I thought was cute. Can’t remember what class he was in, maybe History or English. Either way, I only got a glance of him from a distance since he was at the front of the classroom and I was near the back. I thought he was pretty cute, though I can’t imagine why. His hair was all ruffled and short, but it looked really soft, and he couldn’t accessorise for shit. Had a weird interest in denim, often wore scarves indoors even when it was warm.”

Betty tilted her head curiously. “Uh-huh?”

“But yeah, I told some people in the class I thought he was cute, and then everyone laughed, because apparently they were actually a girl the whole time. I tried taking it back and saying I had no idea, but it was too late.” Her leg began to bounce again. “Middle schoolers will latch onto  _ any _ piece of drama, since they’re not exactly old enough to slut shame or do drugs yet, so you bet they called me a dyke for  _ ages _ afterwards. They wouldn’t let it go.” She stared at the floor and sighed. “And I guess the worst part was… I  _ was _ still attracted to them. Deep down I was scared that they were right all along.” She looked up at Betty again and snickered. “And as it turns out, yeah, they were. But who cares anymore, right?”

Betty frowned at her. “Well, it sucks that that happened. I’m sorry.”

Heather shrugged. “It was years ago, I’ve moved on.” Betty didn’t reply, and when she looked at her, she seemed to be lost in her thoughts. “You okay?”

“Do… do you remember what your ‘crush’ looked like?” Betty asked. Heather gave her a strange look, but answered anyway.

“Um… tall? Short brown hair? Fair amount of acne? It’s why I thought she was a guy. And like I said, wore a lot of denim and scarves.”

Betty pursed her lips, not turning around when the door opened and in stepped Martha.

“Martha?” she asked, still not turning around. “Do me a favour, get me some photos of us in middle school.”

Martha gave her a confused look, but shrugged. “Yeah, sure. One second.”

Heather furrowed her brow. “What are you…”

“Just wait.”

So Heather did. There was some rustling upstairs, and she was waiting impatiently for a while, but eventually Martha did return with a small cluster of photos that seemed pretty dusty and old, but well maintained nonetheless. Betty took the photos and flicked through them, stopping after going through a few and snickering.

“Hey, Heather, does this person look familiar to you?”

She held up a photo to her, and after squinting at the photo, she saw what looked like a younger Betty and Martha in very unfashionable clothes, as middle schoolers tend to do, smiling at the camera. In the middle of them was someone else though, someone  _ very _ familiar in several different ways. Because not only did she know that stupid fucking smile so well, she also had just described their exact appearance moments ago.

The universe must really fucking hate her, huh?

“Oh.” Her head sank into her hands. “Oh, I’m not allowed to escape from her, am I?”

Betty just burst out laughing, while Martha just stood there confused.

“Am I missing something?”

“No, you’re not-”

“Heather liked Veronica in middle school!” Betty exclaimed, still laughing hard. “Not sure how, Veronica was a mess.”

“That’s not very nice!” Martha griped. “But also sort of true.”

“Look, I guess-” Heather dragged her nails down her face and groaned. “I guess I have a  _ type, _ because the more I think about it, that’s exactly how she looked in senior year before we gave her a makeover.”

“Are you saying you were attracted to Veronica from day one?” Betty asked.

“ _ No! _ ” Heather pouted and hurried back to her own couch, partly to hide the fact that she was blushing hard, and also to give Martha her seat back. “No, there’s a reason I gave her a makeover!”

“You have a type regardless of gender, and it’s Veronica.”

“ _ That’s- _ ” Heather cut herself off. “Not  _ that _ far-fetched, but still!”

Martha just smiled at her. “I think that’s really sweet! It’s like in  _ The Princess Bride _ \- you fell in love, and then for years never saw each other, then you met and fell in love again!”

“I- I’ve never seen  _ The Princess Bride. _ ” Martha gasped in dismay at that. “But also, I doubt in the film one of them ends up fucking their relationship up anyway and it ends with them parting ways, so it’s not a great analogy.”

“Oh.” Martha frowned, and Betty stopped laughing. Heather realised her mistake and quickly tried to think of some way to bring the mood back up.

“But, regardless, yeah, looks like I’m not allowed to have a sexual awakening without it being Veronica.” She tried to laugh, but it seems she managed to get the pair lost in their own thoughts. Muttering a curse, she distracted herself by looking at her swatch, and saw that she had probably overstayed her welcome by staying over for at least an hour. “Um… you two probably had a load of plans for tonight, and I think I’ve said everything I needed to say. Did you need to hear anything else, or…?”

Betty and Martha looked at each other questioningly, before shrugging.

“I don’t think so,” Martha said.

“I’ll tell you if I think of anything,” Betty said.

“Alright.” Heather stood up, and so did Betty and Martha, unexpectedly. “Well, uh, have a nice evening I suppose. And thanks for sharing your fun little Veronica fact, except not really.” At least that time they smiled. “And… for hearing me out, since you didn’t really need to do that and all.”

Betty shrugged. “It’s no problem.”

“Yeah, it really isn’t!” Martha chirped. Heather half-smiled at them both, before making her way towards the exit. The two of them followed close behind, giving her space to put her shoes on, and before opening the door, there was a strange pause in movement and speech, as if everyone was trying to process the past hour, and whether or not it had been real. Heather knew if someone had told her she’d be at Martha Dunnstock’s doorstep begging for forgiveness a couple of months ago she would have laughed in their face and probably slap them due to the absurdity.

Perhaps it was a good thing that she was defying expectations she held previously, though.

She eventually stepped outside, seeing the sky had gotten darker and the air had grown colder. She wrapped her cardigan further around herself, keeping one hand pressed against it to hold it together.

“Well, see you… tomorrow?” Martha questioned.

“Monday, probably,” Heather replied. “I still need to prepare a bit, so…”

“Well, see you Monday, then,” Betty said.

“Probably. Dunno if we’ll talk, I imagine you’ll be with Veronica.”

“True.” Betty nodded. “Still, see you. Thanks for coming around and… you know, saying everything.”

“Yeah,” Martha agreed. “I think we needed to hear it.”

“Well, it’s no problem, but I feel like I didn’t actually do much.”

“You didn’t. I wouldn’t say this is the end of it, but it’s definitely a start,” Betty said calmly. “So… thank you for actually putting in the effort of coming here to apologise.”

Heather frowned. “I mean, you’re welcome, but is that something worth thanking me for?”

“No, it isn’t,” Betty murmured, folding her arms. “But in high school, everyone gets away with everything without a hint of remorse - I’m included in that. Over the years, I’ve never seen someone actually give a genuine apology unprompted. Usually I have to fight to hear a half-arsed one, so… thanks for just  _ doing _ it, I guess.”

“Mhmm,” Martha hummed. “It was nice not having to beg for an apology for once.” She smiled sweetly. “It’s why I’d like to move forward - you clearly want to as well.”

Heather found the corner of her mouth quirk upwards. “Yeah, I’d like that,” she murmured. “Hopefully I can do it.”

“Well, I might as well tag along to see how your make-up goes,” Betty said with a snort. “Because believe it or not, I  _ do _ want things to get better.”

“So where do we stand right now?” Heather asked. Betty clicked her tongue.

“I’d say things are still rocky, but… like I said, I want it to go somewhere. But a lot of that effort can’t come from me, so I can only hope.”

“Well… hopefully I can deliver on that.” She stepped away from the door. “Again, thanks for listening to my clunky fucking apology. You could probably tell this isn’t my forte.”

“Yes, we could,” Betty said bluntly, only to be nudged by Martha’s elbow again. “But it wasn’t half bad,” she added with a grumble, rubbing her arm.

“That’s good to hear, since I’ll probably have to make more of them,” she murmured before clearing her throat. “See you Monday.” She was about to turn around, before she remembered something. “Also, Betty, you  _ do _ owe JD twenty dollars.”

“Goddammit,” Betty grunted. “I wanted to use that for pizza this weekend.”

Martha just giggled and called, “Bye! Have a nice weekend!” along with Betty giving a silent wave, before they closed the door with a gentle click. Heather stood still for a moment, still processing everything. She was worried about what the next step would be, of course, but she strangely felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of her. Not just because that had gone far better than she could have imagined, but now she felt as though she didn’t  _ have _ to be needlessly cruel to them anymore. She never did have to, she knew that, but there was still an underlying obligation until now.

Now, she could just go home and really take everything in, fully absorbing whatever new, cleaner image she was creating for herself. It wasn’t something she was used to; cleaning herself of all the dirt on her may let people see how fragile she truly was underneath, like a delicate glass. But she’d shattered and stepped on so many other people already, so what did it matter if she got the same treatment at this point?

_ Still… _ she thought as she started up her car.  _ Would be nice if I managed to stay strong. _

And surely, she could find a way to do just that. She was far too stubborn to let anyone get her down, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she's struggling, but she's learning :]
> 
> comments and feedback are much appreciated !!!!
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> get her ass !!!!!!!!
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/


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